


What's in a Name?

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Magic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:39:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin, a travelling fortune teller, meets a passing gentleman that saves him from drowning in a river. After being left behind by his fellow companions, the gentleman (whose name turns out to be Arthur), returns to the city months later and finds Merlin working for an abusive innkeeper. He saves Merlin yet again and installs him as a house servant in his own estate. What starts out as friendship blooms into something much more passionate when Arthur confesses his secret. But Merlin has secrets of his own and it's only a matter of time before his saviour finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a Name?

The last rays of sunlight peeked out from behind a hill. By the time Merlin and the rest of his caravan reached the top it would be nightfall. They’d stop for the night and rest under the moon and stars.

Merlin looked over his shoulder at the way they had come. The wheels of their wagon left deep gashes in the muddy lane, evidence of their long journey. They’d walked from dawn that morning because Nimueh had wanted to get to the city as soon as possible.

“How could such a talented seer like you not foretell this rain?” Wilfred asked Merlin from under his cloak. He was Merlin’s closest friend among the nine of them, and his tone suggested teasing instead of honest annoyance.

“I can’t see everything,” Merlin replied, not for the first time. It was true that looking in his crystal ball (which was mainly just for show) was helpful now and then, but it didn’t make Merlin omniscient. Most of the time he got quick glimpses of the future or short bursts of sensory details besides sight. It was because he’d smelled the burning of their caravan one night before the event could happen that they’d escaped a mob of angry townsfolk.

He could not, however, predict the weather and it was indeed the rain that slowed their progress. Otherwise they’d be in Camelot by now.

Nimueh raised her hand, signalling they halt. She scanned the area, looked left, then right, then left again, before nodding. They began to set up camp right on top of the hill, the full moon illuminating their site approvingly.

Merlin took the horse out of her harness and fed her. Wil went off to gather firewood. Tristan, feeling they’d stopped, peered out from behind the curtain. He glanced at the surroundings, nodded, then disappeared behind the floral curtain to whisper something to Isolde and their nursing son, Ysaie. Ysaie still had a red string around his tiny ankle.

The night was wet and heavy, but the temperature at least was pleasant. It was early May and most of the flowers were in full bloom. The grass was a healthy green and the earth was ripe with the year’s new growth. Merlin loved breathing in the scent of spring, even if it was diluted with the relentless downpour they were experiencing now.

By noon the next day they had reached Camelot. The sky here was clouded with smog and thick with smoke from steam-powered machines. The streets were littered with rubbish, stray children, and beggars. Some bright eyed boys and girls tugged on their sleeves and asked if they could join them. Each time they shook their heads solemnly.

Nimueh directed the group to a relatively empty square. The cobblestones in the street in this particular part of the city were cracked and entirely gone at times, making their wagon bounce loudly over the road. When they finally stopped, the large crowd that had been following them circled around and stared with wide, curious eyes.

Merlin would never get used to this part of his life. “ _Gypsies_ ,” he heard the people whisper amongst themselves. That’s what city- and townsfolk called them, though they referred to themselves as simply travelers. The “civilised” people watched as Merlin and his family got to work getting the caravan settled. Wilfred and Kara helped Merlin put up his fortune teller’s tent. They, along with Kara’s husband Mordred, would sleep there to ensure nobody stole Merlin’s supplies after work hours.

Everyone’s favourite part of a “gypsy visit” seemed to be the fortune telling. The citizens watched the tent be set up, and wondered which of the three putting it together would tell them their future. Many predicted it would be the girl with dark blonde hair and a round, healthy face. Most fortune tellers were women, after all. They were surprised when she and the boy with short brown hair left the lanky, pale-skinned bloke to look for work.

Merlin avoided the eyes of the crowd for as long as he could. But as Kara and Wil left him he couldn’t help but glance up and scan their dirty faces quickly.

Those in front were children and boys only a little younger than him. They had no shame in wanting to see a gypsy caravan up close. Behind them stood the more stern-faced, judging shopkeepers and vendors, giving Merlin and his group hateful looks now that they’d come and stirred up a commotion. No doubt their businesses would suffer now that people flocked to spend their extra coin on some nomadic scam.

Nimueh insisted they wait until the next day to open Merlin’s tent to the public. With the remainder of the day they should clean and wash the clothes. Merlin took his bowls and headed with the rest of the men out of the city to the river they’d passed on the way in. To ensure that someone was always present with their belongings, the males and females alternated who bathed first.

Walking through the city was always an experience which Merlin dreaded. Though Tristan, Wil, Jeptha, Gilli, and Mordred walked with him, he felt as though all eyes were directed at him alone. He was the fortune teller. He was the palm reader, the psychic, the seer. He was the magician.

The river was not far from the outskirts of the city and Merlin washed his upper garments upstream quickly. He hung them from branches to dry while he bathed. The swiftly moving river was cool and full from the previous night’s rain. They hurried back to their stationary caravan as soon as possible to allow the girls the amount of daylight hours they deserved.

They planned to stay a week, maybe two if business was good and the work paid well. People only put up with gypsies for so long before their wonder gave way to annoyance and prejudice spurred them into action.

Merlin was busy. Most of the people that came to see him didn’t know what they wanted, simply wondered what their future had in store, whether it be good or bad. He couldn’t get a clear reading of anything in his crystal ball with such little to go on, so for those customers he read their palms. He told them if they were destined to find love, if they would be stricken with a fatal illness or not, or if they should consider investing in something they’d been considering for a while.

Many were pleased with the results. Those that did have specific questions were more often than not disappointed. Before the reading Merlin assured his clients that he always told the truth. If he saw a quick sparkle that looked like a ring, he would not jump to conclusions and tell them that they’d be married soon. He told them exactly what he saw and left it up to them to discover the meaning. If what he saw was more definitive, he explained in detail, and if they insisted he was lying, then he would simply say, “Only time will tell.”

A week soon passed and Nimueh consulted Merlin for the next step. How would the cityfolk react to them staying longer? Would they do well in the coming week?

Merlin called up his magic (without the aid of his crystal ball, since it was only Nimueh) but only saw flashes of a large estate and the smell of leather in his nose. He furrowed his brow, concentrated harder, and tried again. This time he felt ghostly hands all over him, hot, sweaty, and probing, and snapped his golden eyes open, breathless and embarrassed.

Frowning, he shook his head. “I’m not sure. Maybe the future is changing too quickly. I can’t say anything for certain,” he told her. “I’m sorry.”

Nimueh pondered the information seriously. “It’s alright. We’ll try again tomorrow. For now, get some rest.”

But the next day brought much of the same. Merlin saw no timid girls enter his tent in his mind’s eye, nor any doubtful gentlemen walk in with trimmed moustaches and high brows. He could smell the fragrance of late summer, could feel something soft between his fingers, and felt hot air tickle the back of his neck. He heard a low, filthy moan, he tasted salty sweat on his tongue, and felt his lips tingle pleasantly. But he could not see what the future held for their caravan.

Nimueh told him to bathe in the river. Perhaps he needed to wash off the dirt of the city and be at peace for a while. Merlin told her none of the things he’d seen but from the way he returned to the present from each vision blushing, he thought she could probably guess.

She at least looked at him fondly. She hadn’t reacted the way Merlin thought she would when he told her he had no interest in her, or any female for that matter. He worried at first that she would be offended, then that she would force him to leave the family. But as long as he contributed to their community, he was welcome. He may not be able to wed and provide children like Tristan and Isolde, or Mordred and Kara, but his skills as a seer were irreplaceable. She understood, and upon seeing Merlin’s flustered expression from viewing the future, made it clear she thought it was high time he find someone and be happy.

Merlin was about to get out of the water when he heard the trotting of horse hooves. He hid behind the wide trunk of a nearby tree until it seemed as if the horse was right upon him, then he ducked under the water and held his breath for as long as he could.

It had to have been about a minute. Merlin could hold his breath a very long time, thanks to ten years’ worth of playing in the water with Wil. He raised his eyes above water first, looked around, then came the rest of the way up gasping for air.

“Hello,” he heard a low, gentlemanly voice say behind him.

Merlin spun around. There was, in fact, a gentleman leaning against the tree beside the riverbank. His blond hair was slicked down but a stubborn strand in front refused to join the others and stuck out, curled over his left eye. He had a wide, grinning mouth, and large muscled arms that were evident even through his suit. A shiny black horse kicked the dirt behind him.

“Hi,” Merlin said timidly.

“Where are you from?”

The question took Merlin by surprise. He hadn’t been _from_ anywhere for ten years.

“Camelot,” he said.

The gentleman’s brow shot up. “Is that so?”

“Visiting,” Merlin clarified. “I just. Came here to bathe.”

“In the river?”

“Yes.” Merlin blushed. The man was looking at him critically now and Merlin wished he wasn’t naked.

“Do you need a ride back?”

“Er...”

Merlin didn’t get to answer because right then he felt a wave of something powerful come over him. His eyes rolled back in his head and the last thing he saw was the gentleman’s expression change from curiosity to intense worry.

****

Leather. Merlin inhaled deeply, and there it was again, that unique smell of leather. His other senses came back slowly. He was shaking. No, he was being shaken. He was on something unstable. Hooves. The loud clap of hooves on the ground. He was draped over a horse, the leather harness close to his nose, and he was being taken somewhere.

His eyes flickered open, but he could barely manage to keep them that way for long. After an interval of who knows how many seconds, the sight of a grand building, like a manor or a castle, larger than any building Merlin ever saw, got closer and closer.

The next thing he felt was hot. Large, heavy hands undressed him—when did he get dressed?—and laid him down on a soft material. A bed, he realised. The hands were sweaty and unforgiving but gentle. They dressed Merlin in clothes unlike the rough fabric he was used to and placed a blanket over him. Merlin wanted to say “No, it’s too hot already,” but his mouth couldn’t seem to work.

The next time he opened his eyes he felt a lot better. It was dark outside and a single candle illuminated the room. He looked around and took in the elegant setting: long, heavy, embroidered curtains over the windows; polished wood furniture; a fireplace with a low fire dying; a blonde man in a loose white shirt sitting slumped beside the large bed.

Merlin gasped. At first it was because of the image of that man. The low-cut v of his shirt put his chiseled chest on display, the soft lips pouted in his sleep, and quiet huffs of air left his nose when he breathed out. But Merlin also gasped because he had no idea where he was. One minute he was “clearing his mind” with a quick bathe in the river and the next he was sitting in a bed much too fancy and who knew how far away from the caravan.

He had to get back. He was the most important member of them all, the fortune teller. Without him, his family would suffer for sure.

He threw back the duvet and jumped out of the bed. His clothes, his clothes, where were his clothes? He couldn’t go back to his family wearing whatever ridiculous threads these were. He looked in the wardrobe and the sudden noise startled his saviour from sleep.

“Wha—Oh, you’re awake!” The blonde man stood and a smile brightened his face. Merlin took a step back involuntarily.

“Where are my clothes?” He asked. He tried to sound confident but he was scared and bewildered.

“Your...? Oh. I had them washed. Guinevere probably has them.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “What?! No!” He cried.

“Whoa, whoa there. Calm down.” The hulking man approached Merlin with upturned palms and tried to get Merlin to slow his breathing. “They’re just clothes. What’s the problem?” He put his hands on Merlin’s shoulders gently and rubbed them soothingly. Merlin abruptly stilled, the touch of the other man driving out nearly all thoughts of his garments completely.

“I—You shouldn’t have done that. Please give them to me so I can go,” Merlin said quietly, holding the man’s gaze firmly.

He took his hands off of Merlin and Merlin didn’t know whether to be grateful or sorry at the loss. “At least wait until morning. It’s late now. Or I should say very, very early.”

“I don’t care. I need to get back.”

He frowned at Merlin. “Are you in a hurry?”

“Yes.” Merlin nodded vigorously. “My family...they’ll be missing me.”

“In Camelot?”

“Yes.” Merlin was getting impatient. Nimueh was sure to be worried about him. And Wil! He was probably distraught with his best friend gone.

The man looked as though he wanted to protest but nodded his assent. “Alright then. I’ll take you to Camelot. Stay here and I’ll get your things.”

Merlin waited anxiously for the man to return. He bounced his leg nervously on the floor and wondered how he could possibly explain to Nimueh. He didn’t know what happened himself really. He remembered the mysterious wave of power and the man’s worried countenance, but he’d fainted after that. Usually when he blacked out, it was because of sudden visions, but this past time had been just that, a blackout. There’d been nothing.

Finally footsteps approached the door and the blonde man came back with Merlin’s clothes. They smelled odd and Merlin hesitated to put them back on, as if their sacrilegious washing was a contagious disease. He’d have to work up a sweat in them before he got back to the caravan.

The man left Merlin to dress and when he returned he too was wearing different attire. A long brown leather jacket draped over his broad shoulders and the hem of his white shirt was visible just beneath a black cotton vest. He looked every bit the gentleman Merlin saw by the riverbank but without the brushed hair.

He coughed when Merlin had been staring too long and Merlin blushed. He finished tying his blue scarf around his neck—which had faded over the years to a dull grey—and nodded his preparedness to the man in front of him.

“I never did get your name, by the way,” the gentleman inquired.

“Merlin,” Merlin replied. The people that had visited his tent knew him by his stage name, Emrys. It was weird giving this stranger his true identity.

“Well, Merlin, I’m Arthur.” Arthur stuck his hand out and Merlin shook it politely.

“How long was I out?”

“Two days.”

The news hit Merlin like a brick. “T-two _days_?”

Arthur nodded gravely. “I tried waking you up—”

“You should have taken me back to Camelot!” Merlin shouted, surprising himself. “Left me by the city gates or _some_ thing. My family would have found me eventually.”

“That’s incredibly cruel,” Arthur said, appalled.

Merlin frowned. It was too late now. They wouldn’t have left without him. The only thing to do was hurry back and assure them that he was fine.

“Let’s go,” he said, anxious to head out. He followed Arthur to the stable where the black horse was kept, settled into the saddle awkwardly in the space between Arthur’s wide legs, and they were off.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Arthur said, helping Merlin from the horse at the city gates. The first rays of the sun were just turning the sky pink.

“Yes. Goodbye, Arthur.”

Merlin landed roughly on his feet and for a moment Arthur’s arm was firm behind him, holding him up steadily. “Never ridden a horse before?” Arthur asked with a wry smile.

“Never needed to.”

Arthur mounted the black beauty once more and nodded to Merlin, who stared up at him with sudden affection. It dawned on him that he’d never properly thanked this man.

“Thank you,” Merlin blurted as the horse turned away. “I would have drowned if not for you. And I probably ruined your nice suit.”

Arthur looked over his shoulder, his smile now warm and friendly. “It was no problem. You’re lucky I was passing by and caught sight of that horrible red shirt hanging from the tree.”

Merlin blushed, remembering their first encounter and his nudity. He’d been just as unclothed when Arthur dove in and saved him from a watery grave. Arthur threw his head back and laughed heartily as Merlin put the pieces together.

“Goodbye Merlin,” he said, still chuckling. “It was nice to meet you.”

Merlin licked his chapped lips and nodded. “Goodbye Arthur.”

****

Merlin much preferred the sleeping city to its busy counterpart. He was able to walk back to the square free from the piercing gazes of others and, now that he was within the walls again, he took his time and appreciated the architecture he wasn’t able to this past week.

Cities were nice, but Merlin immensely preferred the countryside. One couldn’t smell summer when surrounded by factories or admire the shapes of the clouds when the sky was blocked by smog. Visiting once in a while suited Merlin just fine.

Just around the corner from where their caravan was, Merlin spotted a familiar looking flyer on the ground. It was an advertisement for his tent. _Emrys the Omniscient: What does your future hold?_ Merlin snorted and kicked it into the gutter with the other rubbish. It was probably Wil’s idea of a joke.

Merlin turned the corner and his heart stopped. The square was empty. There was no sign other than that damned flyer he’d just kicked that his family was ever there. The caravan, the tent, his _family_. They were all gone.

Merlin felt himself starting to panic. His breath came in quick short gasps and his arms felt the need to move uncontrollably.

They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. But they did. And Merlin was alone, with only the clothes on his back and the few coins in his pocket to keep him.

He sat down on the hard cobblestone and calmed his breathing. He had to focus. He had to concentrate.

He let his mind wander, let his magic take control as he tried to use his clairvoyance to his advantage. No matter how hard he looked, he could see nothing of Kara, Wil, Nimueh, or any of them. It was almost as if...as if his future was no longer intertwined with theirs anymore.

The thought frightened Merlin. He was without a home, without a family! Arthur had been too kind already, and he wouldn’t dare asking if he could stay there until he figured something out. But what was he to do in the meantime?

Merlin was still pondering this when the first people began stirring. Shopkeepers opened their doors, stall vendors put out their wares, beggars took up their usual positions, and children kicked little bits of rubbish down the street. Amongst the routine of daily life, Merlin was an outcast. His bright clothing made him stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me.” Merlin called to a wandering girl with brown hair. She would have been beautiful if she wasn’t hidden under a layer of dirt. “Do you know which way the gypsies went?”

She looked at his odd clothing and considered him thoughtfully. Then, all of a sudden, she remembered him. “Oh! But you’re the crystal ball man!” She smiled wide and Merlin saw she had a few teeth missing. She really was quite adorable and Merlin immediately liked her.

“That’s right. I’m the fortune teller,” he explained. “The others seem to have gone on without me. Do you happen to know which way they were going?”

The girl giggled. “Why don’t _you_ know? You’re supposed to know _ev_ erything.”

Merlin inwardly groaned. Adorable, yes, annoying, also yes. “Not quite. I only know a little bit more than the average person, actually. And the future can always change.” He wouldn’t try to explain the complicated matters of fortune telling to a girl no more than seven. “But listen. Did you hear them say which way they were going or not?”

She shook her head and her limp hair tossed about. “Nuh uh. But one lady said she had a bad feeling and that they should leave right away. She was pretty.”

Merlin sighed. “Alright. Thank you, I suppose.”

He was about to walk away when she tugged on his sleeve. “Will you...” She looked away, embarrassed. “Will you tell me my fortune? Pretty please?”

It couldn’t hurt. Merlin knelt down beside her and took her hand in both of his own. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused.

Her mind was so young, so innocent! His magic seeped in, got to know her, plucked out the details it thought important, and finally called up a clear image that Merlin saw as if it were right in front of him.

She was a few years older, eleven or twelve maybe, but she was pretending to be fifteen. Her hair was long and she’d brushed it, so it wasn’t limp but styled and full of volume. Her face was painted gaudily with shades of red and pink and she stuck her lips out as though she were constantly puckering for a kiss.

And her clothes. She wore lace leggings that were too long for her and were held up with pins beneath her skirt. Her blouse was cut low but there was nothing much to show off because she’d only just started to develop. Like her makeup, her attire was bright and showy.

She was a whore.

“What did you see?” Her childish voice snapped Merlin back to the present. She stood there, her eyes full of young wonder, waiting for Merlin to tell her what her future held.

“I—I saw—I saw you,” he replied, swallowing tears.

“Yes?” She nodded, urging him to go on.

“You were...happy.”

“What was I doing?”

“Just standing, watching people pass by.”

“That sounds _bor_ ing.” She took her hand back and frowned, tilted her head to the side as though she didn’t quite believe he was telling the whole truth.

“Yes. But don’t worry. The future can change.” Merlin was certain, however, that her future would not change. Some things, he had learned the hard way, were inevitable. No matter which path this girl took, it would lead her back to the same end.

She continued as she was and Merlin returned to his full height. The street was getting crowded. Soon more people would recognise him.

The first thing he needed was new clothes, or at least a new shirt. Nimueh always advised him to keep ten shillings in his pocket just in case, and Merlin was never happier for the advice.

When he tried to walk into a shop though, the owner shooed him out.

“But I’ve got money! I want to buy something!” He held his palmful of coins in front of him.

Grudgingly, the shopkeeper let him back in, but watched Merlin with a wary eye. Merlin picked out a plain brown shirt, paid three shillings for it, and hurried out as fast as he could.

The fabric was alien to Merlin. He’d been twelve when he joined the gypsy caravan, so he hadn’t always practised their unique ways, but it was odd after so long nonetheless. It felt wrong walking around, like he had slipped into another’s skin and was putting on an act. But then, that was no different from what he did as Emrys.

His disguise wasn’t complete just yet though. Gypsies were obsessively clean people by nature, and Merlin’s skin was too pale. He needed to look more like the girl whose fortune he told. Steeling himself, Merlin bent to the cobblestone, rubbed his hands on the dirty ground and pressed his newly grimed hands to his face. With a layer of dirt applied, he looked more like the city filth that littered the streets.

When Merlin’s stomach rumbled it was obvious what he should do next. For a shilling and eightpence he could get a whole breakfast. People were more willing to sell to him now that he looked every part the city dweller. He bought bread and ham and cheese and settled in a deserted alley to eat.

Just as he was about to take his first bite, a noise to the left startled him. Large, hollow eyes came out of the darkness and a man with a scruffy beard approached Merlin and his meal cautiously.

Merlin tore off a large chunk of bread and gave it to the beggar without hesitation. The man stuffed his rotten mouth noisily, licked his dirty fingers, then grunted his thanks. He shuffled back off to wherever he’d come from.

Merlin had four shillings and twopence left, and he dearly hoped that was enough for a night at the inn. When night fell, he walked humbly in and inquired how much it would be for a small room.

The thin, wiry lady behind the desk regarded Merlin arrogantly. “For you...” She puckered her lips, looking him up and down. “Half pound.”

Merlin was dismayed. “But I’ve only got—”

“Half a pound, final offer.” She leaned in closer on the tips of her toes, took his chin in her claws and turned his head left and right. She released him with a mad sparkle in her eye and wicked grin. “Unless you’d be willing to provide a service. Pretty young lad like yourself. Just needs a bit of washing up.”

Merlin blushed furiously under the layer of grime. “N-no, that’s quite alright. I—” He paused, struck with an idea. “I won’t do _that_. But I can offer something else.”

The innkeeper leaned in close again. “And wha’s that?”

“You know the people that were visiting before?” Merlin prompted. “The—The gypsies?”

“I do...”

“They left me here. I’m their fortune teller. And if you promise to let me stay a night I’ll do a reading for any of your guests, free of charge.”

Her eyes positively lit up and she ran around the desk and put a caring arm around Merlin. She was a head shorter so had to wrap around his back, rather than over his shoulder. “No no no, my dear, not free of charge. You stay, say, a week or two, and we’ll have them pay, hmm, let’s say two shillings?”

She guided Merlin up the stairs and into a small room at the back. It was cramped but it had a bed and that was good enough for Merlin.

“Alright,” Merlin agreed. “A week or two, you said?”

“Precisely. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds fine.” As long as nobody threatened him, it suited Merlin. Then, maybe when he’d raised enough money he could take a coach to a small town and settle down there. He couldn’t handle the city _all_ the time.

“Excellent, excellent!” The innkeeper shrieked.

“There’s one thing,” Merlin stopped her at the door. “Some people can get violent when they hear a fortune they don’t like.”

She shrugged. “Then make up something they will like.”

Merlin gaped, horrified. “But that’s—”

“The rule, as long as you want to stay here.” She lowered her voice menacingly. She was frightening for such a small woman.

Merlin swallowed at the intense gaze of her beady eyes. “Y-yes, of course. Thank you for your kindness.”

Her false smile crossed her face again. “My pleasure. I do love to keep my guests happy. Oh, and my name is Helen. Sweet dreams.”

When the door closed behind her, Merlin sank onto the creaky bed. He closed his eyes and focused on his own future. He saw himself curled up on the very bed he sat on, sobbing uncontrollably. In the vision, he felt his head pounding and his spine aching and knew he had been beaten. He was cursing Helen with every gypsy insult Tristan had taught him, and was still mumbling them as he cried himself to sleep.

Merlin’s eyes had teared up as he witnessed his bleak future. He had to think of a way out of this predicament. He had to find somewhere else to go. He would _not_ let his vision come true.

****

Merlin should have realised what was going on long before the end of a month. As it was though, he wasn’t familiar with how wages worked and so when Helen gave him his share of the pay, he didn’t question her.

But four weeks passed and Merlin had raised scarcely five pounds. On top of that, people were getting used to Merlin being there and his talents became boring. Helen almost turned him out then, but Merlin begged and pleaded, and said he wouldn’t offer up his body but he would help keep the place in order. And that’s how Merlin ended up being Helen’s slave.

It was the worst when so-called “gentlemen” had too much to drink. Most of the time they left before getting sick, or if they did, they ran outside and did it in the alley. But sometimes they would spill their guts right there on the floor and Helen would creech “Merlin!” and Merlin would have to get down on hands and knees to clean it up.

He began to look too much like the poor sods on the streets. Helen demanded he shave and keep himself looking decent. When his hair became a tangled mop of black, he attacked it with scissors until the floor of his room seemed to be crawling with rats. He did a poor job of it, but he looked a sight better than before and Helen nodded in approval.

Two months and Merlin looked more than waifish. His skin was like wax paper and he moved about in a ghostly manner. Helen would hit him with a strip of leather if he lagged behind in his work, so he always floated quickly from place to place. He didn’t realise until two weeks after the fact that his vision had long since come to pass.

He stopped trying to foresee his future, lest he be disappointed. If good luck was on the way, better to be surprised and appreciate it all the more when it arrived. But with each day that passed Merlin doubted more and more his chance at luck.

It happened one Tuesday while Merlin was sweeping up. He’d been working on a single corner for more than ten minutes in the hopes that he would look busy and Helen wouldn’t give him anything more distasteful to do, like clean under the guest beds—it was really horrible the sorts of things he found under there. The bell above the door chimed and a man walked in, who it was Merlin didn’t care. He simply pushed a pile of dust back and forth in his corner without looking up.

Helen swarmed in on the guest like a bird of prey. “Mister Pendragon! Why, it’s been so long. To what do I owe the pleasure? Please, please, let me take your coat.”

“That won’t be necessary, er...?”

“Helen.”

“Right. Helen. I’m only stopping by for one quick drink and then I’m off.”

Merlin, in his corner, would know that voice anywhere. He set the broom against the wall and tried to scurry discreetly upstairs. He could not let Arthur see him reduced to such a dismal state.

But Helen, ever watchful, saw him and shrieked his name. “Merlin!” Merlin turned on his heel slowly and very purposefully avoided the shocked eyes of Mister Pendragon.

“Y-yes, Helen?” Merlin stammered quietly.

“Didn’t you hear him? He wants a drink. Hop to it!”

“Right away, Helen.” Merlin shuffled to the bar and began to pour ale into a glass. He heard the slide of wood against wood as Arthur took a seat on a stool.

Suddenly a lash of pain flared up on Merlin’s back and he winced, spilling some of the ale onto the floor.

“Not _that_ rubbish, Merlin,” Helen chided, still holding the leather strip threateningly. “Can’t you see Mister Pendragon is a _real_ gentleman? Give him the good stuff.” She flicked the makeshift whip again and Merlin cringed as it hit him a second time. “And be careful, you’re letting the wares go to waste.”

Merlin poured the ale back into its container and filled the newly emptied glass with their best wine. Task complete, he turned and offered it to Helen to give to the customer.

“What are you handing it to me for? Give it to him!” She sighed in exasperation and looked apologetically at Arthur. “Good help is so hard to come by these days. I apologise for Merlin’s utter incompetence.”

Merlin placed the glass on the bar with trembling hands. He still wouldn’t raise his eyes to meet Arthur’s, so ashamed he was of his current position.

Arthur, for the first time since he’d walked in, spoke up. “It’s quite alright, Helen.” He took a healthy sip and nodded appreciatively at the taste. “Good wine, this. How long has Merlin been in your service?”

Helen started at the quick change in topic and was taken off guard. “Merlin? Oh, he’s been here...hmm. How long would you say I’ve been plagued by your presence, Merlin?”

“Ten weeks and two days,” Merlin replied quickly. He’d started about halfway through May and now it was early August.

“Only that long? It feels like a year, at least.”

“Ten weeks,” Arthur mused. “That would be two and half months, is that right?”

“Yes sir,” Helen nodded. “Two and a half hellish months, I can tell you.”

“Why keep him on then?” Arthur asked, taking another sip to feign disinterest.

“Oh, well, only because he begs me to let ‘im stay. Hasn’t got anywhere else to go he says. Family left without him,” Helen explained. “Isn’t that right, Merlin? Even they saw how much of a nuisance you are.”

“Yes, Helen,” Merlin replied miserably.

“I swear that’s all he can say!” Helen cackled. “‘Yes, Helen. Right away, Helen. I’m sorry, Helen. Please stop hitting me, Helen.’ It’s all rather tiring to be honest.”

“I can’t imagine,” Arthur mumbled into his glass.

Helen raised her arm to lash Merlin with the leather again, but Arthur put up a hand to stop her.

“Is that really necessary?”

The innkeeper’s brow rose. “Maybe not for your well-groomed house servants, but it certainly gets things done quicker with Merlin.” Merlin sidestepped a few feet away while she was distracted.

“I suppose it would get things done quicker with anyone,” Arthur muttered.

“Merlin, what _are_ you standing around for? Go make yourself useful.” She shooed Merlin off. Merlin hurried to pick up the broom and resume sweeping in the safe corner.

He wasn’t able to hear but snippets of their conversation. From what Merlin could tell it was mostly about him. Helen kept glancing his way and speaking in a low voice whenever Merlin looked over his shoulder. He moved from the spotless corner more towards the bar, making sure to sweep beneath the tables and chairs thoroughly.

Suddenly Arthur set his empty glass down with a dull thud and said, “That settles it then.” He turned to Merlin. “Get whatever belongings you have, Merlin, you’re coming with me.”

Merlin stood, frozen in shock. Had he heard right? Helen yanked him out of his daze.

“Well go on then, get that damned dirty neck rag of yours and get out of here!” She screeched.

Merlin dropped the broom and stumbled up the stairs right away. He returned with his blue-turned-grey neckerchief—the last remnant of his gypsy life save his tattered boots—and followed Arthur out of the inn like a stray dog.

He was struck dumb again when he saw Arthur get into a horsedrawn carriage, complete with driver and all. Arthur’s hand pulling his own broke him of his admiration.

“Never ridden in one of these either I suppose,” Arthur remarked, once they were off and moving.

“N-never needed to,” was Merlin’s quick but shy reply. Arthur’s laughter echoed through the confined space. “If you don’t mind my asking, how _did_ you manage to save me from that horrid woman?”

“Everyone has a price, Merlin.”

“Oh.” Merlin frowned. “You bought me.”

“You could say that, yes.” Arthur suddenly seemed very interested in the seam of his waistcoat.

“Am I to be your slave now?” Merlin asked, feeling a mixture of anger, despair, and betrayal rise in his chest.

Arthur looked up, startled. “What? No! You’ll be just an ordinary house servant.”

“I see. And what do ordinary house servants do?”

Arthur shrugged and shifted his attention to the passing scenery. They’d left the stone fortress of Camelot and were now in open fields. “Cleaning and things of that nature. Make the place look lived in.” He shrugged again.

“Does no one live there?” Merlin hadn’t had the opportunity to see much of anyone or anything the last time he was there, being sick at first and eager to leave near the end.

“I do, sometimes. Most of the time now, probably.” Arthur seemed somewhat sad to say it, and Merlin didn’t press for more. He remained silent and admired the blessed countryside the rest of the way.

When they did finally approach his new home, he tried not to look too awed. He’d forgotten the remarkable size of it, and its grandeur was momentarily jarring. It was so different from the squalid conditions he’d been living in for the past two months, and a world apart from the nomadic life from the past ten years.

Not wanting to be left behind, he was close at Arthur’s heels as they got out of the coach and walked in. “Welcome back, Mister Pendragon,” a tall, thin man greeted Arthur. Arthur nodded in his direction but otherwise ignored him. He led Merlin straight to the room where Merlin had slept all those weeks ago.

“Is it true then?” Arthur asked suddenly, spinning to face him once they were alone in the room. “About your family leaving you?” Merlin licked his lips and nodded. A wave of relief passed over him as he realised Helen must have kept the whole gypsy and magic bit from Arthur. “I’m sorry to hear that. You must miss them a lot.”

The ache Merlin felt for his lost companions burned in his chest as each of their faces rose in his mind. “I do. I still can’t really believe they...” He huffed and squared his shoulders. “But they did. And now I’ve got to make the best of things.”

Arthur’s lips twitched in a wry grin. “Yes, I suppose so.” He looked momentarily sad. “I wish you would have...Well, there’s no sense wishing now. I’ll send Guinevere up soon. For now you can get settled. Do whatever you like with this room. It’s yours.” He turned and disappeared down the corridor.

“Mine?” Merlin echoed to the empty room. He looked at the extravagant furniture and placed a hand on the soft bedding, as if making sure it were all real. “All of this is mine?”

****

Being a house servant was easy. All Merlin had to do was make beds, dust furniture, sweep the hearths, wash the windows, scrub the floors, and occasionally help cook. The difficult part was finding his way around. The house—or castle, more like—was a maze of long corridors and empty rooms.

Merlin didn’t actually see Arthur all that much the first week he was there. He was too busy following Guinevere around, learning the ins and outs of house servantry and getting to know the other inhabitants of the estate. He learned that there used to be many more of them: a few footmen, two stable boys, gardeners, gamekeepers, scullery and laundry maids. That was back when Arthur was a young boy and the elder Mister Pendragon was more present. Of late, Arthur’s father was nearly always away on business, and Arthur himself had spent three years travelling abroad. The Pendragons simply had no need for so many hands anymore. Their number was down to a meagre twenty-one. Twenty-two now that Merlin had arrived.

The low number of servants meant the intersecting of responsibilities. There simply wasn’t enough of them to have a separate group of chambermaids, cooks, gardeners, et cetera. Everyone helped out where and when they could. Arthur’s shrug when asked what it was that house servants did suddenly made more sense to Merlin.

At first Guinevere would show Merlin what to do and how to do it. How to sweep the hearth without making more of a mess, how to change bedclothes as efficiently as possible, how to set the table, wash laundry, and all sorts of menial things. Then she would supervise as Merlin emulated her. Eventually, she trusted Merlin enough to do his chores on his own.

After a little over three weeks without more than a passing glance of Arthur’s blond hair and strong muscular build, Merlin’s employer found him reading in the upstairs library. Merlin was standing with his back to the entrance, feather duster held loosely in one hand and an old leather bound book in the other. A cough startled him out of his concentration and the book slipped from his hands as he spun around in surprise.

“Oh! Arthur! I was just—just—”

“Reading?” Arthur leaned against the doorframe, smirking.

“Um...Dusting?” Merlin held up the feather duster sheepishly.

Arthur’s smirk deepened and he walked over to pick up the fallen book. His eyebrow quirked as he considered the cover. _Lyrical Ballads_ by William Wordsworth and Samuel Coleridge.

“You can read this?”

“No, not one bit,” Merlin replied quickly. Too quickly. Arthur’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Then what were you doing, staring at the pretty lines?” He mocked. It was a tone Merlin had never heard him use before and Merlin wasn’t sure how he felt about it being directed at him.

“No.” Merlin sneered. “I was...I was...smelling it. Yes, I was smelling it. Doesn’t it smell nice?”

Arthur opened to a random page and sniffed, as if to humour Merlin. “It smells like a book, Merlin.”

“That it does.” Merlin shifted uneasily, bouncing on the tips of his toes. “Well, I should let you alone. I’ll be going now.” He was halfway out the door when Arthur called him back.

“Merlin?”

Merlin turned on his heels slowly. He met Arthur’s calculating stare firmly. “Yes, Arthur?”

“I don’t really want to be left alone right now. In fact, I’d like your company. Come sit with me.” Arthur sat in a large armchair near the fireplace and gestured for Merlin to sit in the one opposite him.

Swallowing, Merlin nodded, put the feather duster down on a table, and went to take a seat. Arthur still held the book of poetry in his hands.

“It’s interesting that you should choose this book to stick your nose into,” Arthur said when Merlin sat down. He turned the pages lovingly. “This is one of the few that actually belongs to me. Most of these are my father’s collection. In all the house I’ve only a single bookshelf.”

He nodded to the tall bookcase that was thinner and older looking than the others. Merlin guessed about two hundred books were crammed into the small space, most of them worn, but some of them in almost pristine condition.

“But it seems I shall soon acquire many more, since reading is all I’ve left now,” Arthur continued wistfully.

“Why is that?”

Arthur smiled sadly, closed the book softly and caressed the cover. “I’ve travelled a lot these past three years, searching for something. Each place I went I thought, maybe, _maybe_ I will find it here. Maybe this time, or the next time. Maybe it’s just around the corner or across this sea or that desert. But I suppose I was never meant to find it. Some people are simply destined for other things.”

“What is it you were searching for?” Merlin couldn’t help but ask.

“A woman. _The_ woman.”

Merlin bit his lip. He didn’t know anything about being attracted to the opposite sex. “And you didn’t find her?” Merlin ventured.

Arthur shook his head solemnly. “No. I realised that I never would. Since I was young I felt...I thought if I found someone maybe she would...” He shook his head again. “I shouldn’t say. And yet...”

Merlin clenched and unclenched his sweaty palms, sitting on the edge of his seat. “And yet?”

Arthur raised his eyes from the book and looked at Merlin critically. “It’s always easier to tell your secrets to a stranger. Have you ever noticed that?”

Merlin couldn’t say that he had. Among his caravan he’d had no secrets. Secrecy was new to him. It seemed that Arthur was seeing straight through him then, calling him out on keeping his magic and origins to himself.

Arthur shifted his gaze to the flickering fire. “You’re a stranger to me, Merlin. I hardly know you. But I feel as if I can trust you. I _did_ save your life. It’s only natural that we share a bond.”

“We could be...we could be friends if you like,” Merlin suggested, then panicked a bit. “Can house servants be friends with their employers?”

Arthur chuckled. “I don’t see why not.” He returned his eyes to Merlin again. “Yes, we’ll be friends.”

Merlin laughed at the finality of Arthur’s tone. It was the same tone one might use if saying, “Yes, I would like roast chicken for dinner, how kind of you to ask.”

“Friends, then,” Merlin said, nodding. He settled back into the chair and smiled contentedly. “Wow. My first friend.” He suddenly burst out laughing incongruously loud.

Arthur’s grin stretched wide across his face. “What’s so funny?” He couldn’t help but join in.

“It’s just—ahaha!—If only—If only they could see me now. Friends with a—ahahahaha—Friends with a _gentleman_!”

“Who? Your family?”

“Yes. Yes, them. Aha!”

Arthur chuckled. “Would they approve, do you think?”

Merlin wiped his eyes that had teared up from laughing so hard. “Oh, absolutely not. They positively loathe your sort.” He became quickly serious, realising he’d almost given too much away. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your sort, I mean,” he added hurriedly.

Arthur waved it off. “I understand. A lot of people don’t like wealthy men such as myself.”

Merlin thought, _No, you really don’t understand_ , but said nothing.

“Well, now that that’s been made clear I’m even less inclined to tell you what I was considering. I wouldn’t want to lose your friendship so soon,” Arthur stated.

“Is it that bad? Have you killed someone? Are you keeping someone prisoner in one of the rooms?”

Arthur laughed at the ideas. “No, nothing like that. It’s much more personal. Quite embarrassing actually.” He blushed and shook his head.

“It’s alright,” Merlin replied. “I understand. Everyone has at least one secret.”

Arthur was still smiling but his eyes measured Merlin in a new light. “Even you?”

Merlin licked his lips and swallowed before answering. “Even me.”

****

From that day on Arthur requested Merlin’s presence in the upstairs library every evening. They sat and talked—well, mostly Arthur talked—about what they liked, hated, had done as children, what Arthur had done while he was abroad. Arthur told Merlin what is was like growing up in an estate with a serious father and only maids for company, and Merlin told Arthur what he could in return, the first twelve years of his life that he hadn’t been with the caravan. He left out anything related to his magical talent.

A little more than a month went on this way. The leaves died and fell from the trees and soon Arthur began having his supper brought to the library so they wouldn’t be interrupted. Until then they’d sat for a couple of hours chatting then parted when it was time for Arthur to dine. The next time they’d see each other would be the next day. They stayed up late into the evening, until the fire would die and Arthur would suddenly look horrified with himself for having such a good time.

Merlin never pressed for Arthur to tell his secret. He tried his best to let on that he could be trusted, even if he had secrets of his own he vowed never to tell.

Finally, the night came when Merlin walked into the library and saw Arthur wringing his hands nervously. He stood abruptly when he noticed Merlin.

“I think I’m ready to tell you now,” he declared. “My secret.”

Merlin walked the rest of the way to his seat cautiously. Returning to this chair was like packing up his things and laying down in his tent at the end of a day of telling fortunes. It was familiar and remembered his body’s shape.

He sank into it slowly. “Are you sure?” He asked.

Arthur nodded firmly. “You deserve to know.” Merlin waited patiently for Arthur to get the right words together. He’d never seen Arthur so distraught over anything before.

“Right then. You know why I travelled. I was looking for someone.”

“A woman,” Merlin supplied.

“Yes, a woman. It was...it was because my father said I should try to marry as soon as possible and start a family of my own. I told him I was young, only twenty-three back then, and had plenty of time for that. But he insisted.” Arthur licked his chapped lips before continuing. “And there were lots of women. Even in places like India I’m considered handsome. Not that my father would even let me marry an Indian woman. But I had to try everywhere. I had to find the right one. Only, there _wasn’t_ a right one. Among all of them, it never felt right. I never loved them back. When I made love to them I always...always imagined someone different.”

Arthur’s hands clutched the armrests and his knuckles were white where the bones jutted out. His leg bounced restlessly. Merlin leaned forward and placed a firm hand on Arthur’s knee. Arthur’s eyes widened and he stared at the pale hand on his leg.

“Arthur. Arthur, it’s alright. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Merlin said reassuringly.

Arthur swallowed thickly and got it all out in a rush. “I imagined the stable boy. He was the only one I ever enjoyed it with and I finally realised I couldn’t find a woman because for me there never _would_ be a woman.”

Merlin, before he could stop himself, laughed. “That’s all? But I’m that way as well! I’m not in the least bit attracted to women. Why would you make such a fuss over telling me that?”

Arthur gaped. “You—you like—”

“Yes, you clotpole,” Merlin said, chuckling. “I like men, and what of it? Is there something wrong with that?”

Arthur was speechless. “It’s—But— _What_?”

Merlin noticed Arthur’s distress and retreated. At the same moment he realised what his hand on Arthur’s knee must have looked like, and that he had just _laughed_ at Arthur’s secret.

“Shit,” Merlin swore. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I only...where I come from it’s not as serious, so for you to be so...Shit. You must think I’m the most insensitive person in the world.” Merlin cast his eyes down, ashamed to meet Arthur’s stunned expression. “I’m sorry for calling you a clotpole,” he added as an afterthought.

There was a strained silence that followed and Merlin focused on the crackling of the fire instead of on Arthur’s breathing. He had half a mind to get up and flee to the safety of his room. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Arthur’s breath became short and stinted. Merlin looked up and saw Arthur was chuckling now as well. He allowed himself a small smile.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Merlin asked.

“You’ve nothing to be forgiven for, Merlin. It was just a shock is all. I never would have guessed...” He shook his head. “How foolish I must seem.”

“A bit.”

“Though I suppose it makes sense. I thought for sure a handsome bloke like you would have been with at least one maid by now.”

Merlin laughed. “Oh, believe me, some have tried. But they’re barking up the wrong tree, let me tell you. They’ve taken to calling me a prude behind my back. As if it’s my fault I can’t return their affections!”

Arthur joined in Merlin’s laughter. “Yes, precisely! Each time I had to leave one of those annoying wenches, that’s exactly what I thought, that it wasn’t my fault.” He sighed and sat back, more relaxed than Merlin had ever seen him. “Finally, someone who understands!”

Their silence then was comforting, interrupted occasionally by short bursts of giggles when the ridiculousness of Arthur’s deep, dark secret surfaced again. After a while, Arthur asked hesitantly, “You know that I was with the stable boy. Have you ever...with anyone?”

A month ago Arthur wouldn’t have dared ask something so personal, but they were close friends now.

Merlin nodded. “Twice, in cities my family was visiting. Nothing romantic, just heat of the moment encounters,” he replied, unashamed.

“Your family seems to have travelled a lot,” Arthur observed.

Merlin tread carefully with his words, and felt terrible lying to a man who’d just shared his most personal secret with him. “We were very poor and tried to find work where we could. Many people wouldn’t employ a whole family, and it was important that we stay together.”

Arthur snorted. “If it was so important, they wouldn’t have abandoned you.” He gasped, horrified at his words. “Forgive me, I—”

“It’s fine.” Merlin shrugged. “It’s true, anyways.”

“Do you ever...wonder if they might come back to find you? That maybe they’re looking for you in Camelot right now to take you home?”

The question caught Merlin off guard and his eyes widened in surprise. “Sometimes. But I don’t think they will. In fact, I’m quite sure they won’t.” He’d scanned the future countless times, but none of his past companions ever appeared in his visions. It was mostly more of the same lusty experiences, the hot breath on his skin, the roaming hands over his body. Now that he thought about it...

Could Arthur be the mystery lover of his premonitions? That would certainly make sense. And Arthur did have a way of looking at him sometimes, particularly when he’d had too much wine or when he thought Merlin wouldn’t notice.

Did Arthur think of Merlin that way? Or more importantly, did Merlin think of Arthur that way?

Looking at Arthur now, content and relaxed in Merlin’s presence, it seemed obvious that Arthur felt _something_ for him. The first time they’d met Merlin had been naked, for goodness sake! And Merlin was obviously something special. None of the other servants received the treatment he did.

Arthur pulled him out of his thoughts. “What makes you so sure?” He asked.

“I just have a feeling,” Merlin answered. It was getting too easy to lie.

“So if I take you with me into town there’s no chance of a tearful reunion and of me finding myself suddenly friendless?” Arthur’s tone was light but Merlin could see the worry behind it and knew for certain that Arthur _did_ think of him that way.

“No.” Merlin smiled. “But what do you need me to go to town with you for?”

Arthur shrugged. “Company. My father sent a letter saying he’ll be returning for two weeks next month and there are some things I need to get in order. I’d rather not go alone if I don’t have to, and you _are_ a servant after all. I could say you were helping me.”

Merlin considered it. There was a chance he’d be recognised in Camelot, first as the gypsy from months ago, then as the fortune teller from the inn. But he had changed a lot during the past few months. His hair was longer—not long enough to be a tangled mop, but not as short as he wore it when he worked for Helen—his servant clothes were different, and he had begun to hold himself with a more confident air. His essence, as Nimueh would say, was no longer that of a timid magician but of a self-aware young man. He’d turned twenty-three two weeks ago—though he’d told no one—but felt years more wise. He’d travelled across countries for a decade but working in this labyrinth of an estate made him feel more worldly than ever before.

Merlin decided he would risk it. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to get out of the carriage.

“Alright,” he said. “When?”

“In a few days.”

Merlin nodded. “Alright,” he repeated. “A few days.”

****

The next day was a day Merlin would never forget. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until around twenty minutes before seven o’clock. Merlin was reading in his room—he’d plucked _Lyrical Ballads_ from the shelf when nobody was around—and had lost track of time, so engrossed was he in the poetry. He was just at the last stanza of _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ when suddenly his door opened. He snapped the book closed and hid it under the duvet in his cross-legged lap.

It was Arthur. He wasn’t angry, just confused. Then his eyes fell to where Merlin’s hands were stuffed beneath the duvet and his expression turned suspicious.

“Here you are, Merlin. I’ve been wondering where you’ve been.” He walked into the room and put his hands in his pockets, still staring at Merlin curiously. “What have you been doing for so long?”

“Nothing,” Merlin replied quickly, smiling innocently up at Arthur. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time. I was just on my way—”

Arthur yanked the duvet back in one smooth motion before Merlin could stop him and revealed the book in Merlin’s hands.

“This? _This_ is your secret?” Arthur said, awed. “You _can_ read. You lied to me.” He looked at Merlin, his eyes hurt. “Why would you lie to me?”

“I—I didn’t think—”

“I trusted you!” Arthur shouted, his hands clenching into fists.

“Arthur, please.” Merlin was on the verge of tears. Their friendship couldn’t be ruined because of one stupid book. It couldn’t. “I just—servants aren’t supposed to know how to read and I—”

“What? You what?”

Merlin shook uncontrollably, clutching the book tight to his chest in case Arthur tried taking it away, though it was technically his. “I can’t tell you,” Merlin said. “I...Yes, this is my secret. Please. You have to understand.”

Arthur breathed heavily, clearly wanting to do anything but understand. But he did. He too had to lie to people he cared about to protect himself. Still, Merlin’s betrayal stung.

“You can still trust me,” Merlin said. “Our friendship isn’t a lie. I promise you that, our friendship is real. It’s real.”

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. “I know.” His expression softened as he regarded Merlin, curled up with the book held to his chest. “Calm down then, I’m not going to take it back. Why don’t you show me just how well you read, eh?” He tried to smile, but Merlin could tell he was still hurt.

Merlin slid forward and positioned himself next to Arthur. The side of their thighs pressed tightly together and Arthur swallowed thickly, but Merlin didn’t notice. He opened to the page he’d been reading.

“I was sort of right at the end, so it won’t make much sense if I start where I left off.”

“That’s okay,” Arthur assured. “I’ve read the whole thing.”

Merlin licked his lips and looked down to the open poem. “‘He went like one that hath been stunned, and is of sense forlorn; A sadder and a wiser man he rose the morrow morn.’”

Arthur’s smile became genuine. “The _Ancient Mariner_. Excellent choice,” he nodded approvingly. “You read well. Who taught you?”

Merlin chewed his lip and frowned. Arthur seemed to catch on.

“Is that a secret too?” He asked.

“Afraid so.” Merlin nodded, and raised apologetic eyes to Arthur. He suddenly realised their close proximity. Their faces were so close he could feel Arthur exhale on his lips.

Arthur was very aware of it as well. “Is there anything you can tell me?” He inquired hoarsely. His eyes seemed fixed on Merlin’s mouth.

“I really like...this book.” Merlin struggled to keep his own eyes upward, especially when Arthur’s lips spread into a ridiculous smile.

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

Merlin hesitated, but figured he could at least say this much. “My family was very strict. I wasn’t allowed to read things like this. What’s possible with just words and language...it’s unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

“You’ve never heard of poetry?” Arthur was taken aback and momentarily distracted from Merlin’s pink mouth.

“I’ve heard of it, of course. And I’m familiar with songs, obviously. Everyone is. But these are different. These are so...” Merlin’s head seemed to tilt forward by itself and the tip of his nose brushed Arthur’s. “So wonderfully amazing.”

Arthur’s breath was coming quickly and any feelings of betrayal he had left evaporated. Merlin was so close to him, centimetres away. All it would take was the slightest movement forward.

“I know what you mean,” Arthur whispered. He let his hand wander slowly up Merlin’s thigh and grab a fistful of loose fabric at Merlin’s waist.

“Arthur.” Merlin put his own hand gently over Arthur’s and relocated it to his hardening cock to show how much he wanted this. Arthur’s fingers cupped the bulge and Merlin inhaled pleasantly. “Arthur.”

Finally, Arthur closed the distance and pressed his lips against Merlin’s. Merlin raised his other hand and curled his fingers in the soft blond hair. The soft texture from his premonition months ago. The gentle sucking of his bottom lip that made his mouth tingle. The low moan that signalled the need for more.

Merlin pushed forward into a horizontal position and settled his body on top of Arthur’s. He fit perfectly into the space between Arthur’s butterflied legs, and he grinded their erections together slowly at first, deep and languidly.

“M-Merlin,” Arthur gasped. “Too many...too many damn clothes in the way.”

Merlin laughed breathlessly. He was tempted to remove the layers with magic but was just coherent enough to see why that was a bad idea. He released Arthur from under him and they pulled off their garments hurriedly, eager for skin to skin contact.

When they came back together, Arthur’s mind was clear to Merlin. His magic probed without him telling it to and he could see pieces of Arthur like an open book flipping through pages. He saw glimpses of his past, his present, his future, felt what Arthur was feeling now, felt how deep his affection for Merlin truly ran, ever since he’d sat by his side for two days.

And he had sat by his side, directly by his side, for two straight days. Merlin had never known that. He assumed one of the maids had tended to him while he had been passed out what seemed a lifetime ago. But no, Arthur had remained by this very bed until the moment Merlin woke up. And then, for Merlin to demand to leave him, when all along Arthur had wanted to keep him there and dreaded the time for Merlin to go...it had been cruel, heartless even. And Arthur had said nothing to hint at his inner suffering.

Merlin stopped his frantic thrusting and took Arthur’s face in his hands. He stared deep into the sapphire eyes that looked back at him with love, yes, love, until he couldn’t handle the intensity anymore. He kissed Arthur hard, kept kissing him until Arthur forced him to pull away for air, and even then Merlin simply moved on to other parts of his lovely body.

He kissed a wet trail down Arthur’s chest, grazing each nipple teasingly with his teeth on the way, and only stopped when he reached the tip of Arthur’s cock.

Arthur’s hands twisted in the sheets and his back arched high on the bed when Merlin finally took him in. His toes curled and he moaned low in his throat, a sound that Merlin would treasure for the rest of his life. Merlin slid up and down the thick shaft first slowly, then quickly, then slowly again, drawing out the experience for as long as he could.

He could sense Arthur’s relief through the skin. Finally, _finally_ , after so long of searching fruitlessly, Arthur had found what he’d been missing. Merlin’s mouth on him was perfect, everything about Merlin was perfect, and he never wanted to be Merlin-less again.

Seeing himself through Arthur’s eyes, seeing how much Arthur truly cared, made Merlin tear up. He wiped them away quickly with the back of his hand and didn’t stop his attention to Arthur’s dick. If anything, he increased it. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder, faster, wishing to please Arthur with his whole body but settling for now to do it with his mouth.

And soon enough Arthur peaked. “Yes! Merlin!” He screamed. His come shot into Merlin’s puckered mouth and Merlin lapped it up happily. Arthur tugged on Merlin’s hair when he finished and kissed him deeply, wanting to taste himself on this perfect man’s tongue. He let Merlin rut into him shamelessly until Merlin too climaxed with a satisfied sigh.

As they laid in each other’s arms catching their breath, Merlin felt Arthur’s happiness radiate through him. It seemed to surround him in a warm glow. He didn’t want to have to move to clean up the mess he’d made of Arthur’s stomach, so while Arthur’s eyes were shut and he was stroking Merlin’s hair peacefully, Merlin waved his hand over the dirtied area and the milky fluid disappeared into thin air.

“You’ve wanted that for a long time, haven’t you?” Merlin asked, already knowing the answer.

Arthur’s lips twitched upward but he still didn’t open his eyes. “Yes. I wish I would have gotten the nerve to tell you about me sooner. I would never have guessed you’d let me do this. Or that your mouth was so talented.”

Merlin grinned. “Oh, I am _very_ talented. You have no idea.”

Arthur lifted a single eyelid and looked down at his new lover. “Is that so?” His lips twitched again and Merlin saw what he planned to do before it happened, but let Arthur do it anyway. He pulled Merlin off the bed and onto the floor in a kneeling position, his face centimetres away from Arthur’s limp manhood.

“Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?” He drawled suggestively.

Merlin licked his lips slowly, knowing the effect it had on Arthur. “Only for certain people,” he replied huskily.

“Wrong answer,” Arthur said like Merlin knew he would.

“Only for you,” he corrected himself.

Arthur smiled. “Yes, that’s better.”

Suddenly Merlin was no longer in the room with Arthur. He was looking through someone’s eyes that weren’t his own. One hand was closing the door to the library while another balanced a plate of steaming food precariously. He was looking for Arthur, or rather, the person whose eyes he was seeing from was. But Arthur wasn’t in the library like he normally was. Perhaps he was in his room...

Merlin returned to the present to find himself being shaken by a worried looking Arthur.

“Merlin?” Arthur was saying into his face. “Are you alright?”

Merlin blinked a few times to readjust. It was rare for visions to come on their own like that, but it was lucky that one did. “Sorry, I...were you saying something?” Merlin went back to sitting on the edge of the bed and Arthur followed him.

“I could have sworn your eyes were...but it was just a trick of the light. And then you weren’t responding.”

“Sorry,” Merlin repeated. “I don’t know what happened. But maybe we should get dressed? It’s about the time for supper to be served and if you’re not in the library—”

“You’re right! I almost forgot. We should hurry.” Arthur nodded and began to dress quickly. He didn’t notice that Merlin had magicked the come from his chest.

They reached the upstairs library just as Sefa was closing the door after peering in. She turned and nearly dropped the tray in her hands at seeing Arthur suddenly in front of her.

“Oh!” The tray wobbled and Merlin stepped forward just in time to take it from her. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Merlin thankfully. “Thank you, Merlin,” she said, glancing up at him from under long eyelashes.

“It’s entirely my fault,” Merlin replied. “I lost track of time scrubbing windows and Arthur came to fetch me. I’m sorry if we gave you a fright.”

“It’s fine, Merlin. I should be more aware of my surroundings,” Sefa replied flirtatiously.

Merlin bit his cheek to keep from laughing at how obvious she was. “Either way, thank you.” He tilted his head respectfully.

Arthur, entirely amused by the scene, brushed past them and into the library where he could safely erupt into laughter. Merlin followed soon after with the tray of hot food in his hands. He shut the door quickly behind him before Arthur could get too loud.

He set the tray on the small table they’d moved to between their two armchairs and let his own laughter escape.

“I can’t believe I never realised before,” Arthur said between giggles. “Did you see the way she looked at you? With those wide eyes and pouty lips?”

“Yes. I don’t think she got the message about my being a prude.” Merlin fell into his chair and propped his ankle on his knee.

Arthur followed suit. “You? A prude? Never.” Merlin shrugged. Arthur’s countenance changed into one of deep satisfaction and his sigh seemed to come from the depths of his soul. “I’m so happy things have turned out this way. I hate that you don’t trust me enough with your own secret, but I can forgive you for now. You’ve made me the luckiest man alive.”

Arthur’s smile gave Merlin courage, and he raised himself from his seat just enough to press a loving kiss to Arthur’s lips. Arthur’s hands reached up and held Merlin’s face to keep him anchored there.

When they parted, Merlin sank back into his chair grinning. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Arthur. It’s just that I’m not ready. I promise I will tell you. One day.” One day far in the future, years maybe, when he felt Arthur could handle the truth without getting too upset. Merlin was especially convinced to delay his revelation now that Arthur had claimed him as his own in every way. No doubt he would feel horrified at having fallen in love with a clairvoyant gypsy.

“Now, eat up, before it gets cold.” Merlin nudged Arthur’s foot with his own, and Arthur complied. He dug into the meal heartily, then suddenly stopped, fork mid-way to his mouth.

“I’ve just realised I’ve never seen you eat before,” he stated.

It was true that Merlin often went without supper to indulge in Arthur’s company, but he never complained. He simply plucked a bit of bread from the kitchen before he went back to his chamber and would have a more hearty meal for breakfast.

Merlin waved it off. “Don’t worry about me. Eat, eat.”

But Arthur frowned and put his plate back on the table between them. “You first.”

Merlin chuckled incredulously. “You can’t be serious. Arthur, I’m not hungry, and even if I was I wouldn’t steal from—”

“It’s not stealing. I’m offering.”

“Either way—”

“One bite. That’s all I’m asking,” Arthur said pointedly. He gave Merlin a look that left no room for argument.

Sighing, Merlin lifted the plate and took up the fork in his hand. He studied the food seriously. Pork, potatoes, and peas. He didn’t want to deprive Arthur of his meat, but he didn’t like peas himself. He settled on plunging the fork into the mountain of potatoes and took a quick bite.

“There,” Merlin declared, setting the plate down. “One bite. Now quit worrying about my eating habits and focus on your own.”

Arthur still didn’t seem satisfied but he’d gotten what he’d asked for. He returned to his meal and when he finished they carried on talking as usual, only now Arthur would occasionally pick a book from the shelf and tell Merlin to read a passage he particularly liked. Knowing Merlin enjoyed reading opened up a whole new world of conversation topics.

Before long the clock struck ten and they went their separate ways. Arthur’s room was only four rooms over but it always felt as if a much larger barrier were between them when they became master and servant again. Though Merlin was sure none of the other servants had such a nice room as he did. That was just another way in which he was special.

Merlin was drifting off to sleep when he heard the latch on his door. He sat up, wondering if it was one of the servants that needed help with something. Instead Arthur’s blond head peered into the room.

“Arthur? What on earth are you doing?”

Arthur crept in and closed the door softly behind him. Then, with a feline grace Merlin never would have guessed him to have, Arthur leapt onto the bed and twisted midair so that he fell backwards onto the bedding.

He grinned at Merlin childishly. “I was lonely. You don’t mind if I sleep here tonight, do you?” His eyes were wide and innocent and Merlin could refuse him nothing.

“It’s your house,” Merlin replied with a chuckle. “Do what you like. And since I’m a servant I’m technically part of the house, so you can do what you like to me as well.”

Arthur pulled back the duvet and slipped in beside Merlin’s strong warmth. He laid on his side and half his ridiculous smile was hidden by the pillow. “I’ve never considered you my property, you know. I always thought of you more as a guest that simply tidied up sometimes.”

Merlin sank back down into the comfort of the bed and their legs tangled together. “Sometimes I feel like that too. But then I come back to reality and have to scrub the floors. You’d think the gardeners would be kind enough not to track mud everywhere, but no.”

Arthur laughed softly. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you complain about anything.”

“It’s the first time I’ve felt comfortable enough to complain,” Merlin replied truthfully.

“I could always tell them to take off their boots when they come in. If I enforce it, they’ll have to do it.”

Merlin shook his head, as much as was possible when half his face was in the pillow anyway. “I already get too much special treatment. And they’ll all think I whined to the master about it, which I did but I don’t want them to know that.”

“Quite the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“It’s not my fault I—” Merlin stopped himself, not wanting to ruin the moment with serious discussion. But Arthur, ever quick to pick up on things, pressed on.

“What’s not your fault?”

Merlin sucked his bottom lip, hesitant to say any more. Arthur, however, looked at him with those wide blue eyes and he made himself go on.

“It’s not my fault how things have turned out. I never thought my life would end up like this. When I was younger I thought I’d grow up to be a farmer like everyone else. Then I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with my family. And after they left I thought for sure I’d die working for Helen, that one day she’d whip me too hard and my body just wouldn’t have the strength to get back up. I never, ever imagined anything like this. And then for _this_ to happen...” Merlin caressed Arthur’s arm, running his hand up and down the strong limb lovingly. “I’m not used to surprises. But that’s all my life has been lately. Surprise after surprise.”

Arthur was silent for a while and in the dim light Merlin thought he had closed his eyes and fallen asleep. Soon though, a heavy release of air ghosted over Merlin’s skin as Arthur sighed.

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew how to fix everything for you, but I’ve only just recently solved my own problems, and even that I did with your help. Are you really so unhappy here?” Arthur asked, honestly worried.

Merlin took Arthur’s hand in his own and entwined their fingers. “No, not really. At first I thought maybe I would be, but after Helen I realised I’d never known true unhappiness till then. With her I learned to put aside my sadness and get through everything day by day. I made myself numb on the inside and put on a smile for everyone else on the outside. Then I found the library and figured why not lose myself in a book?” Merlin’s lips twitched in a small smile. “But that hope was short lived when you caught me reading.”

Arthur returned the smile. “I still can’t believe I fell for that. Smelling the book. Honestly.”

“Yes, that was...” He shrugged with one arm. “One good thing came of that day though.”

Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand, brought it up to his mouth and placed a kiss on the tips of Merlin’s knuckles. “Yes. One might even call it fate.”

Merlin inhaled quickly. It was unheard of for gentlemen—or anyone who wasn’t a gypsy really—to speak of something so sacrilegious. It wasn’t fate that ordinary people believed in, it was God’s plan. A God Merlin and the rest of his family didn’t worship.

“Do you...believe in that?” Arthur asked nervously. He misunderstood Merlin’s gasp.

“I believe in destiny,” Merlin replied firmly. “I believe that some things are meant to happen—are _going_ to happen, no matter what—but the events that lead up to it are completely in our hands. And fate...fate is sort of like destiny, only with smaller things. I think they go hand in hand.”

Arthur breathed in relief. “I’m so glad you said that. Most, my father included, would accuse me of being an atheist and alienate me from society.”

“I don’t care what you are. You’re a good man, no matter what you believe in.”

Arthur leaned forward and kissed Merlin gently. “Thank you, Merlin. Now, don’t let me keep you awake a minute longer. Get some sleep.” With that, he turned over in one swift movement and suddenly his back was pressed to Merlin’s chest and Merlin’s arm was draped over his waist. He squirmed until he was sufficiently comfortable and entirely enveloped by Merlin’s warmth.

Merlin was surprised by the sudden display of affection. This was how Mordred and Kara, Tristan and Isolde slept, with the woman always curled up and protected on the inside. Was that what Arthur wanted, to give himself completely to Merlin like a woman did? Did he want to be held and taken care of?

It definitely seemed that way. Arthur was asleep and snoring softly within minutes, entirely content in Merlin’s backwards embrace, but Merlin’s thoughts ran wild. In his only two sexual encounters, it had been him that was taken, he that had been penetrated. And now, with Arthur, things were the opposite. Arthur’s arse against his cock made that evident enough. Was this Arthur’s subtle way of asking...?

It would have to wait until morning. Merlin was quite tired despite the excitement of all that had happened that day. Maybe even because of it. But when he woke the next morning, Arthur wasn’t in the bed with him. Still, the ghost of a kiss lingered on Merlin’s cheek, and Merlin knew he had simply left so as to not raise suspicion among the other servants.

Another vision came to Merlin just as he was sitting up. He was walking in a street in Camelot, following close behind Arthur. He could smell raw fish being chopped and could hear the clang of a blacksmith’s hammer. It was late summer and sweltering and fat flies buzzed about lazily.

Then a voice from off to the side started shouting. “Hey! Hey, you! Hey, mister, come back! Stop, come back!” Then a tugging on his sleeve after he’d tried unsuccessfully to ignore it and disappear. He looked down. It was the brown-haired girl who, in a few years, would be a whore.

“Aren’t you the man who saw my future? Aren’t you the fortune teller?”

The vision faded and Merlin was back in his room again. His heart pounded in his chest and he dreaded what he had to do. But he could not let this vision come to pass.

He went about his day pondering the different ways to break the news to Arthur. What could he possibly say to avoid the outing planned two days later?

“I’m sick,” Merlin declared the next night. He made a show of coughing until it seemed like his lungs would jump out of his throat. Arthur rushed out of his chair by the fire to Merlin’s side and put a cool hand to his neck.

“You’re burning up,” he said, shocked. “Go back to your room, I’ll send Guinevere in with some tea and lemon.”

Merlin felt a bittersweet mixture of happiness and guilt. The honest worry on Arthur’s face was touching, but it was all for a lie.

Still, Merlin swallowed his guilt and kept up the act. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Merlin.” Arthur gave him a stern look, turned him, and started pushing him towards the door. “I want you well. Hopefully you’ll feel better by tomorrow. I was looking forward to it, but I am not cruel enough to make a sick man go out just because I’d like the company.” They reached the door and Arthur opened it. “Now go on. To bed with you.”

Arthur shut the door firmly behind him, barring Merlin from reentering. As promised, Guinevere came in shortly after bearing hot tea and lemon for his supposedly sore throat. She wrapped blanket after blanket around Merlin’s thin shoulders, saying, “You’ll sweat this fever out in no time and be good as new by tomorrow.”

When she’d gone for the night and Merlin was alone, he let the spell fade and his skin was aflame from being engulfed in a cocoon rather than from a glamour. Certain that Arthur would let him rest in peace that night, Merlin took off the layers and sat up with _Lyrical Ballads._ Reading would take his mind off of his lie and the ease with which he’d pulled it off.

With Arthur in Camelot and himself restrained to his sickbed, Merlin had nothing to do but read. He soon finished the book of Romantic poetry and snuck off to the library for something with a plot. Frightened that Guinevere or one of the other servants might catch him out of bed (and therefore pin him for trying to get out of work), he picked up the first volume he laid eyes on and hurried back to his chamber. He didn’t look at the title until he was safely under the comfortable duvet: _Pilgrim’s Progress._

Merlin dove right in. It was an odd piece of work, that was for sure. He rather disliked it, it being of a religious nature, but since he couldn’t risk getting up again he figured he ought to at least give it a try. That’s how Arthur found him when he returned from Camelot.

The door opened without warning and Merlin quickly hid the book, but at the first sight of blond hair he relaxed. “You’re home,” Merlin greeted Arthur happily. His voice was hoarse from little use, which added to the invalid effect.

Arthur walked the rest of the way in and his smile brightened the entire room. In his hands was a rectangular object wrapped in a brown cloth and tied with a string. If the shape didn’t give it away, Arthur’s ridiculous grin certainly did.

“You bought me a book?” Merlin cast aside the one in his hands to gesture for his gift excitedly.

Arthur’s smile broadened and he strode the length of the room in four steps to sit on the edge of Merlin’s bed. His hair was windswept, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes were bright. He was like a child just come in from playing outdoors and was showing off what he’d found to his best mate.

“It’s rather lengthy,” Arthur said, handing it over. “So it will last you awhile.”

Merlin held it reverently in his slim, unworthy hands. Carefully, he opened to the middle and stuck his nose between the pages, inhaling the new-book smell. Arthur threw his head back and laughed.

“I love it.” Merlin fought to hold back tears. Next time he would go. He wouldn’t ever lie to Arthur again. “I’ll love it forever.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up gratefully into Arthur’s trusting eyes. “Thank you so much, Arthur.”

Arthur placed a chaste kiss to Merlin’s cheek, not wanting to catch Merlin’s cold. “You’re very welcome, Merlin. Now hand me that dreadful Bunyan book so I can burn it like I should have ages ago.”

Merlin complied, chuckling. “Only if you promise not to burn it. It may be dreadful but no book deserves to burn.”

“It’s a deal.” Arthur’s hand made its way to Merlin’s calf and squeezed affectionately. “Are you feeling better?”

Merlin looked up from caressing the cover of _Don Quixote_ like it was a newborn babe and fixed a smile on his face. “Much better. The day of rest really helped.”

“I’m glad.” Arthur’s hand had reached Merlin’s knee now and he gave it another squeeze, this one more meaningful, before he got to his feet. He planted a quick kiss to Merlin’s sweaty forehead and said, “Hopefully you can join me next time. I missed you today.”

“I missed you, too,” Merlin replied truthfully. He’d come to rely on Arthur for happiness a bit too much recently. “It was absolute madness here. The master goes out for a day and suddenly all rules and regulations are out the window.”

“Is that so?” Arthur asked, eyebrow raised conspiratorially. His smile was just as knowing as Merlin’s.

Merlin nodded. “It is.”

Arthur laughed and tousled Merlin’s bed-rumpled hair. “I suppose I’ll have to have a serious talk with them.”

“Oh yes. Guinevere especially. She’s a wild one.”

Arthur roared with laughter at the image that brought up, nearly forty year old Guinevere with her brown curls let down and swinging her hips coquettishly. She’d been Arthur's nurse since he was a boy. Just the idea that she could be anything close to wild was ridiculous.

But Arthur knew his servants too well to truly believe Merlin. “I’m glad your humour is still in good health,” he stated. “I trust you’ll be well enough to return to your duties by tomorrow.”

Merlin understood that included _all_ his duties. “Yes.”

“Excellent. Be sure to get a good night of rest.” Arthur walked just as quickly to the door as he had from it. He stopped when only his head peeked out from behind the polished wood and regarded Merlin fondly. “Merlin.”

In his eyes was an affection so deep, so pure, that for a moment Merlin wanted to jump out of bed and tell Arthur everything. He wanted to kiss him all over, profess his love and hold him forever. He wanted to make Arthur come back to bed and share each other’s warmth for another night and every night after.

Instead Merlin held his breath and smiled a silent goodnight and Arthur closed the door.

****

After a full recovery, the rest of November passed quickly. Soon it was mid-December and ice frosted on the windows. On any normal winter night Merlin would be huddled next to Wil for warmth in the Reading caravan. This was the first time that he’d sat in front of a proper fire.

They were sitting back to chest near the hearth, with Arthur tucked neatly between Merlin’s legs. A soft red blanket was over their shoulders.

Arthur leaned further back into Merlin’s embrace, resting his head right above Merlin’s steady heart. He sighed contentedly before saying, “My father will be arriving tomorrow.”

They’d talked about Arthur’s father previously. It was no surprise that things would have to change. “I understand,” Merlin replied.

The blonde head turned and blue eyes looked up into Merlin’s own. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Arthur’s tone was suggestively low. Merlin’s body tensed at the obvious desire behind his master’s gaze and Arthur felt the muscles stiffen. He turned in Merlin’s arms and suddenly had him pinned to the floor. Arthur didn’t have to speak. The erection prodding against Merlin’s thigh said enough.

“You want to...do more,” Merlin supplied.

“Only if it’s alright with you.” Arthur thumbed the flushed cheeks of the beautiful man under him. In a flash, he was pinned by a grinning Merlin.

“I want to,” Merlin breathed over Arthur’s soft lips. “I want to so very much.”

With a slight moan, Arthur raised his hips and brought their matching bulges together. “Will you...” The words were begging to be let free, but Arthur struggled to drag them out. Merlin would have helped him but he wanted to hear it spoken. “Will you enter me, Merlin? Will you come inside me?”

Merlin kissed away Arthur’s embarrassment. “I’ll do anything for you, Arthur, anything. Till the day I die.”

The confession was as much of a surprise to Merlin as it was to Arthur. With his fingers curled possessively in Merlin’s hair, Arthur whispered, “I love you, Merlin.”

Merlin had seen this from the first time they’d laid in bed together. There had been many nights like that since, quiet moments after passionate frotting that opened Arthur’s mind and soul to Merlin’s magic.

“I know you do, Arthur. I know, and I love you, too.”

Too many words. Merlin didn’t want to speak anymore. He’d seen flashes of this moment days prior and was anxious to get rid of the layers between them. To Arthur’s approval, Merlin pulled his shirt up, his hips swiveling as he straddled the strong blonde beneath him. Arthur followed Merlin’s lead and removed his own top, then their bare chests were like velvet when they came together. Once unclothed, there was so much friction, their bodies rubbing against each other frantically. It was the most unrestrained they’d ever been.

“M-Merlin,” Arthur gasped. “If you keep this up, I won’t last.” Merlin didn’t slow down. He sucked hard on Arthur’s nipple and Arthur’s back arched sharply, brushing his naked cock up on Merlin’s chest.

“Love you,” Merlin said into Arthur’s flesh. “Love your hair, love your lips, love your body, love the way you smell, the way you talk, the way you look at me like I’m the centre of the world. Love you, love you, love you...” Merlin couldn’t stop rambling, punctuating each declaration of love with a hard thrust.

“Merlin!” Arthur came hard between them, white and hot and messy. At the sound of his name, Merlin refocused and reigned in some control. With lust-blown eyes he fixed his gaze on Arthur’s wrecked expression and leaned forward to lick up a stripe of Arthur’s orgasm.

What came out of Arthur’s mouth then was less a moan than it was a whimper. Merlin enjoyed seeing Arthur this way, undignified and stripped of his composure. He revelled in pulling the filthiest noises from the master of the estate, the most respected gentleman in the immediate area.

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” Merlin asked hoarsely. Arthur responded with a tired laugh.

“I envy your forwardness. Yes, Merlin, I would very much like for you to fuck me now.” He opened his legs and wrapped them around Merlin’s waist, wiggling his hips so that it brought his arse closer to Merlin’s cock. “Please.”

Fingers in his mouth, Merlin shuffled backward. “It’s going to hurt a bit at first,” Merlin warned, bringing newly wet fingertips to Arthur’s entrance.

“I know. I’m used to fingers.” Merlin frowned as he slipped a single digit in. “My own,” Arthur clarified breathlessly.

“Ah.” Merlin added a second finger easily. He bent forward and licked the area around where his fingers disappeared inside to get it properly wet. Arthur whimpered under the intimate touch. Finally Merlin’s aching erection got the best of him and he decided ready or not Arthur would have to take him. Once things picked up, Arthur’s arse would get slick enough anyway.

Sliding into Arthur was the sweetest sensation Merlin ever experienced. When fully inside, he had to stop and pull himself together. It was all too much. He’d never thought his life would take this turn, or that he’d end up in love with a man so superior to him. He’d resigned himself to a life of endless travel, telling fortunes and selling futures. Now he was bollocks deep in a beautiful gentleman, warm on a winter night, surrounded by all the books he could ever hope to read.

But it was a lie. If Arthur knew who he really was—a travelling tradesman of prophecy, a gypsy—everything Merlin had come to love would be snatched away.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered lovingly. He grabbed Merlin’s ears like they were handles on a tea kettle. “Merlin, what’s wrong?” This close he was able to see the forming tears in Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin bit his lip and shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he lied.

“Is it your secret?” Arthur guessed. “Is that what’s bothering you? I told you, I understand if you—”

Merlin cut him off with a sudden thrust of his hips. “Arthur. Shut. Up.” He jerked his hips again and Arthur’s eyes rolled back in his head. He worked up a steady rhythm that made both of them breathless. Arthur clutched Merlin to him, dug his nails into Merlin’s back so hard there were sure to be bruises.

“Y-Yes, Merlin, yes!”

“Shh. Quiet, Arthur or—”

It was too late. Guinevere had already poked her head in and a shriek escaped, though thankfully muffled by her hand. They were quite a sight, naked and sweaty and tangled on the elegant rug by the fire. Arthur was too incoherent to notice Merlin’s unfinished sentence and, being on the floor, had no view of the door. After two uncomfortable seconds of eye contact, Guinevere closed the door and locked it behind her for good measure. Merlin thanked the stars it was her and not anyone else. Guinevere would keep the secret, he was sure of it.

He would have to speak with her later, but for now he returned to fucking into Arthur with his whole body. It was the first time he’d ever given instead of received, and it was pure bliss. Arthur was so wonderfully tight around him, better than he could have imagined, better than any premonition could ever feel.

“Oh _God_ Merlin, that’s—” Merlin stifled him with a hand over his mouth. This time he was able to finish his sentence, albeit bits at a time since he was so out of breath.

“Someone...might hear...you. Be...quiet.” Beneath his hand, Arthur nodded but his furrowed brow showed how hard it was for him not to be more vocal. It must have been difficult, being with so many women and each time unsatisfied. Now that he’d found someone who could please him all he wanted to do was let them know how good they made him feel.

But Merlin seemed to understand this. He removed his hand and connected their lips, deepening the kiss with a flick of his tongue to the seam of Arthur’s mouth and plunging inside. It was world-altering, life-changing, time-stopping, amazing. Melded into one being with this man that seemed too good to be true brought Merlin to a climax and he throbbed his release inside the tight heat of Arthur’s arse.

He collapsed onto Arthur and together they rolled to the side. Once they caught their breath, Merlin pulled gingerly out of his lover and brought the blanket next to them, where leaking come could pool between Arthur’s legs without worry of staining the rug. It had also gotten chilly with the fire died down and their skin naked to the cold air. He wrapped the extra length of cloth around their bodies and created a cocoon of pleasant warmth.

It was almost twenty minutes before Arthur spoke, his voice in a whisper so low Merlin almost couldn’t hear him.

“You’re still forgiven, you know,” he said, one hand on Merlin’s slim waist. He closed the distance between their sweaty foreheads and his breath ghosted over Merlin’s lips. “Whatever your secret may be, whatever you’ve done...it’s in the past. It’s not you anymore. The person you are now is who I’ll always love.”

Merlin kissed him lightly and pulled back before it could get too heavy. “Thank you, Arthur. I just...I hope you’ll always see it that way.”

“It can’t be that bad. You’re a good man, Merlin. You’re no criminal. You’ve the kindest heart and biggest smile.” Arthur relocated his hand to Merlin’s tousled mop of hair. It had grown over the weeks to the length that Helen had hated. “You’d have to be one talented actor to convince me you’re anything less than perfect. I can’t imagine a single thing you could tell me that would make me stop feeling the way I do about you.”

“Arthur...”

“I mean it.”

“Let’s not talk about it. Not yet. Please.”

Arthur frowned. “But it’s hurting you.” He moved a stray strand of hair out of Merlin’s face. “I can see it, you know. There’s so much pain behind those beautiful eyes. So much knowledge and strength. You can hide it from the others, but you can’t hide it from me.”

“I don’t want to hide anything from you.” Already Merlin felt he had said too much, though he’d said nothing at all.

“I won’t force you into telling me. I’m simply letting you know that you mean the world to me, and nothing, _nothing_ , will change that.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” Merlin repeated. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

“Nor I you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted and more.”

Merlin grinned wickedly. “You’re alright, I suppose.”

Arthur matched Merlin’s smile. “Just ‘alright,’ am I?”

“Yes. I’m mostly doing this for the books.”

Arthur laughed. “I feel so used.”

“As you should.”

They laid in comfortable silence a few moments and this time Merlin was the one to break it.

“Your father...”

“Yes?”

“He’s not...unkind, is he?”

Arthur pursed his lips, thinking. “He can seem a bit intimidating. Alright, very intimidating. But he’s just stern. He has no sense of humour, he’s bitter because he’s balding, and he talks of nothing besides money and my having to marry soon.”

“Oh, so he’s the normal prattish, wealthy type.”

“Precisely.”

The fire had completely died down by now and only a single candle lit the room. Drafts of air slipped beneath the blanket and they shivered, unconsciously hugging each other closer. They were content to lay there for a short while, as uncomfortable and hard as the floor was on their tired bones. Eventually they would dress and go back to their separate rooms, where Arthur would fall into a deep slumber and Merlin would urge his magic into seeing what the immediate future held in store.

****

The carriage that arrived the next morning was entirely—and ridiculously—white. The driver wore a white suit, the horses were white, the curtains behind the windows were white, and in fact the only thing that wasn’t white were the wheels. Merlin half expected the man who stepped out to be a ghost.

He wasn’t. In contrast to the white surroundings, he was dressed completely in black—black top hat, black vest, black shirt and trousers, and shiny black boots. His eyes, shadowed by the rim of the hat, looked black as well, though he knew from Arthur they were not.

“Welcome home, Father,” Arthur greeted him.

Uther Pendragon returned the stiff handshake with a curt nod.  “Arthur. You look...well.”

All the servants had been saying it. Before Arthur had left three years prior he had been lethargic and dark. Of late he was bright and ever smiling. Among them, only Guinevere now knew the reason why.

“As do you,” Arthur returned. They walked into the house, Merlin and Cedric following behind with Uther’s belongings. “Did you have a nice trip?”

“Absolutely not. I detest America. But as long as there is business there, I must continue to visit annually.”

More was said but Merlin didn’t hear it. As the two masters of the estate went to the parlour, Merlin followed Cedric up the stairs to put Uther’s things in his room.

Uther’s room was the most elaborate in the house. Merlin thought Arthur’s chamber was grand, but this room—which had been locked until just this morning—was like that of a royal’s. The furniture was polished mahogany, the red-brown wood contrasting pleasantly against the white adornments. Scarlet ivy vines twisted around the top of each wall, the intricate painting seeming to come to life before his eyes. Merlin sensed Uther had a slight obsession with red and white.

Once the bags were put away, Merlin went to the kitchen where a few of the maids were cooking supper. “Hello, Merlin!” They greeted him.

“Just in time to peel potatoes,” Janice sang, handing him a knife.

Merlin made a face and Janice’s laughter rang out like bells. She was young, only fourteen, and had yet to make a pass at him. Merlin figured it was sure to happen in a couple of years.

After much too long peeling potatoes, snapping peas, and chopping carrots, Merlin returned to his own room to change. He wished he could read but Arthur had warned him that if he himself could pop in unannounced then Uther could do so just as easily. He wasn’t forbidden from reading but the message had been clear.

And Arthur had begged that Merlin help serve at each meal. Before their nights in the library, Arthur had only ate supper in the dining room. Breakfast was brought to him in bed and he ate dinner in the parlour he and his father were relaxing in now. But with his father present, every meal would be a formal occasion, meaning Merlin couldn’t wear his normal servant garb.

It wasn’t a suit and tie, or anything as fancy as one might wear while attending Queen Victoria herself, but it was uncomfortable. The style was the same as his other clothes, but the colour was a midnight black and the fabric was as soft as silk. It felt odd to Merlin’s travel-hardened skin. He insisted he be able to add something of his own, and after a compromise, that consisted of the buying of a new red scarf, Arthur let him wear that around his neck. Overall, Merlin looked almost a gentleman himself in his black and red get-up, and if Arthur’s following gaze was anything to go by, the look suited him.

Uther however seemed to disagree. Whenever their eyes met he would narrow them suspiciously and huff slightly out of his wide disapproving nostrils. Merlin would simply paste a smile on his face and say, “More wine, sir?”

At last, the final course was served. If every meal was to be this torturous, Merlin dreaded the next two weeks. Then Uther dabbed at his mouth with a red cloth and took a final sip of wine.

“You’ve hired again, I see.”

Arthur swallowed his cake. “Yes.”

“You always were trying to bring in stray animals and nurse them back to health.” Off to the side, standing straight for further orders, Merlin stiffened. It was clear who Uther meant. “Tell me, where did you find this wretch?”

“An inn. He was being mistreated by the innkeeper,” Arthur said quietly.

“Of course he was. How much are you paying him?”

“A shilling a week.”

“Make it every two weeks.”

“But—Yes, Father.”

Uther raised an eyebrow at Arthur’s moment of hesitation then looked satisfied down at his half finished cake.

“I’m done. Take it away.” He waved a hand and Merlin sprung into action. He took the plate to the kitchen and returned on the last part of a sentence. “—like a gypsy with hair like a wild animal. If you’re going to keep adopting strays at least clean them up properly.”

Merlin’s eyes widened on his third word, but he quickly schooled his features. He took up his place off to the side until the meal was over and the rest of the dishes were to be cleared away.

In the kitchen, Sefa, the other to have served the two Pendragons, pat Merlin on the back reassuringly. “Don’t worry about Mr Pendragon. He’s critical of everyone at first. Soon he’ll forget you exist. You’ll be just another pair of hands to clean up his messes.”

“Is it true about Arthur?” Merlin asked. “He brings back people and hires them?”

“Oh, yes. He saved me a few years ago, just before he left. It’s not very often he does it, though. Only a lucky few get the chance.” She motioned for him to come closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s not about sex, as much as I wish that were so. He’s never slept with a servant and never would. He’s really just a nice fellow.”

Merlin smiled. “He is.”

“If you don’t mind my asking...” Sefa’s cheeks sudden flushed with pink. “Is it true that an innkeeper beat you?”

Merlin remembered the lonely months with Helen darkly. That too now seemed a lifetime ago. “Yes. With a strip of leather.”

“You were whipped? Like a _slave_?” Merlin nodded. “That’s horrible!” Sefa brought a hand to her mouth in shock. “I’m so sorry, Merlin. That—I can’t possibly imagine.” Somehow her other hand had come to rest on Merlin’s arm and was squeezing affectionately. Merlin licked his lips and removed himself from her grasp as discreetly as possible.

“It’s all in the past now,” he said, backing away. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Sefa.” With that, he turned and escaped up the back stairs to his chambers.

Staring at his ceiling, Merlin wondered how he hadn’t seen it with his magic. He thought he knew everything there was to know about Arthur, yet this was a surprise. At first Merlin had been worried that he’d been played for a fool, that he was just another stray brought home and led into a relationship with his saviour. But that image was soon dispelled when Sefa had spoken to him.

Upon further thought, it was obvious he was Arthur’s first. Arthur too would have to be a good actor to feign such intense love. There was no way to look at someone the way Arthur had looked at him and not be utterly devoted.

The first few days passed uneventfully. On Sunday Arthur went to church with his father and came back silent and withdrawn. Later that evening, just before supper, he cornered Merlin in his room and kissed all coherency out of him. Trousers were hurriedly undone, cocks taken in hand, and come spattered all over Merlin’s shirt. By supper Arthur was smiling again and Merlin blushed deep red each time Arthur’s gaze fell on him.

From the frantic encounter, Merlin’s magic had learned that Arthur loathed sitting in church listening to a monotone voice telling him it was a sin to lie with another man and other hypocrisies. Hence the pent up anger and sudden loss of control. Merlin didn’t mind. He hoped for more lapses of control. He didn’t see any trouble in the foreseeable future and secretly thrilled fucking under Uther’s privileged nose.

Arthur, however much he enjoyed himself that evening, returned to his nearly complete disregard of Merlin. Merlin’s magic had gotten to know Arthur so thoroughly that he could almost feel Arthur’s thoughts and emotions across the room. From what signs Merlin detected in his body language and the hints his magic gave him, Merlin read Arthur like an open book.

When Uther prefaced a statement with, “Soon you’ll understand the importance of,” a wave of dread rose in Arthur at knowing he’d have to spend the next half hour listening to various business endeavours he was expected to know and carry out. When it was, “I simply do not see why you don’t go out and...” an invective on the subject of marriage or courting the opposite sex was sure to follow. In fact, Uther was so predictable, anyone with or without magic could have pieced together the father-son interactions.

Three days before Uther was due to leave, Merlin was straightening the upstairs library he and Arthur usually sat in. He was, in fact, using the same feather duster Arthur had seen him using the first time he’d been caught reading. Arthur and his father came suddenly into the room, causing Merlin to jump and knock over an expensive vase. Luckily Merlin was quick enough to drop everything and threw his body between the vase and the hard floor, then wrapped his arms around the circumference, clutching it to his chest.

“Good save!” Arthur exclaimed, laughing.

Merlin chuckled nervously and returned the piece of art to its precarious table. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”

“Evidently,” Uther replied dryly. “Do try to be more careful around items that are worth three times your entire life.”

He brushed past Merlin as the humble servant mumbled, “Yes sir, of course sir.”

Arthur apologised with his eyes for his father’s behaviour then turned. Uther was in the process of sitting down in the armchair in front of the fireplace. In _Merlin’s_ chair.

“F-Father, wait!” Arthur stopped him. Uther halted, mid-sit, with a cocked brow. “Why don’t you sit in this one?” Arthur suggested, taking his father’s arm. “It’s much more comfortable. And I know how your back aches at times.”

“Oh, yes, thank you Arthur.” Uther settled in the chair as one as wealthy as he would be expected to. Arthur sat on the edge of Merlin’s chair, folded his hands on his knees and leaned forward.

Merlin tuned out what they were speaking of. It was mostly boring business talk again, and Uther telling his son about the various people in different countries that he should get to know should he ever visit there. Sometimes Arthur told of his travels and the people he’d met, usually bringing a clicking tongue of disapproval from the elder Pendragon.

It wasn’t until Merlin heard his name that he paused from pulling out books, dusting the shelf, and putting them back.

“—name is Merlin and he’s been doing a wonderful job,” Arthur said.

“That may be so, but I don’t like the look of him. He’s got this presence about him, a certain...something. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Arthur laughed, nervous to Merlin’s trained ear but incredulous to Uther. “What do you mean ‘you don’t like the look of him?’ At least he’s cut his hair. And since when do we care about what our house servants look like as long as they get their work done?”

“It was simply an observation.”

It was an obvious attempt to change the subject, but once set on something, Arthur saw it through to the end. He extended an arm and waved Merlin over. “Merlin, come here please.” To Uther he said, “Let’s not talk about him like he’s not here, shall we?”

“Arthur, it's hardly neces—”

“Tell me Merlin, what did you think of my father on first glance?” Arthur interrupted Uther to ask of his servant.

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “Sir?” What was Arthur up to?

“My father, Merlin.” He gestured towards the man. “What did you think of him, when you first laid eyes on him?” Merlin hesitated, but Arthur nodded in encouragement. “Go on.”

“Well,” Merlin began. “His hat was shadowing his eyes, and...and the fit of his suit made him look rather slim...so I...I suppose he looked a bit like Death to me, sir.”

Arthur seemed amused, though Uther sat looking at Merlin with an unreadable expression. It was similar to that of calculation, or contemplation, the sizing up of an opponent.

“Like Death, you say? How do you mean?” Arthur asked, clearly enjoying himself.

“Like a reaper. A spectral being that comes to the dead and takes their souls. He...he looked like Death in human disguise. Or like a vampire.”

“That’s enough, Merlin.” Arthur saw Merlin’s fear and stopped him before he said something utterly ridiculous. “And what about me? What were your first thoughts on seeing me?”

The moment replayed vividly in Merlin’s memory. The turning around and seeing Arthur, beautiful and godlike, leaning against the tree by the riverbank, with his styled hair and earth-shattering smile. He seemed an angel come down from the heavens, an offspring of Aphrodite herself.

But he couldn’t say all that in front of Arthur’s father, and Arthur’s sparkling eyes knew what Merlin was thinking. Instead he said, “Well I...I thought, ‘why there’s a handsome fellow. Hopefully he can save me from this wretched woman.’”

Arthur laughed and gestured to his father that his point had been made. “You see? Looks are nothing. You may be cold-hearted but you’re certainly not Death.”

Uther seemed to have made up his mind about something because he leaned forward and looked purposefully into Merlin’s frightened eyes.

“What do you plan to do, Merlin?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“In life, Merlin. What do you plan to do with your life?”

Merlin swallowed thickly. “Er...work here?”

Uther waved the answer off. “Before all this. Say you made enough money to go off and start a life of your own. What would you do?” Arthur unconsciously leaned a bit forward as well, anxious to hear the answer.

“I would...Before Arthur found me I was hoping to save enough to buy a small farm and live alone somewhere. Or if that didn’t work out I would have run off to another city, jump a ship to Ireland or France maybe, and find work there.” For once, it was the truth.

“Which would you have preferred?” Uther pressed.

“The farm, sir. I loathe cities. I much prefer the countryside.”

Uther seemed amused, though for an entirely different reason. “Did you hear that, Arthur? He ‘loathes’ cities.” He chuckled. “What an advanced word for a peasant.”

“I’m a quick learner, sir,” Merlin said. “I pick up things quite fast.”

“How interesting.” Uther gave him another long look of appraisal before saying, “I’ll tell you what my first impression was of _you_ , Merlin: a waifish, thieving, gypsy.”

“Father—” Uther cut Arthur off with a hand.

“What do you think of that, Merlin?”

Merlin’s voice came out surprisingly strong. He didn’t like the way he treated Arthur. “It’s true I may be thin and appear more like a beggar than a house servant, but that’s only because of the cruel environment I was in for ten weeks and two days. I most certainly am not a thief, otherwise I would have stayed in Camelot where opportunities were around every corner. And I assure you sir, I am not, nor will I ever be, a _gypsy_.” Merlin spat the final word like it burned his tongue. His speech impressed Arthur and left Uther silent a few seconds.

Arthur stood and clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Did I not tell you, Father? Looks are deceiving. This one’s quite competent and capable.”

Uther grudgingly mumbled, “Yes, clearly.”

Arthur’s hand squeezed Merlin’s shoulder imperceptibly and he locked eyes with his servant. “I apologise for my father’s relentless interrogation. Why don’t you rest until supper?”

Merlin nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Ar—sir.” He had nearly escaped when he turned on his heels at the door and said, “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Mr Pendragon,” and disappeared to the sweet privacy of his room for the rest of the afternoon.

Supper was an entirely different scene. Merlin spilt a bit of wine on the table cloth and got a dirty look from Uther.

“Take care, would you? That wine is worth more than five years of your salary,” he snapped and Merlin stepped back respectfully.

“S-sorry, sir.”

“Forgive him, Father,” Arthur said from the other end of the table. “He’s not usually so clumsy. Perhaps it has something to do with serving Death himself.” Merlin snickered and Arthur also allowed himself a chuckle or two.

“Hilarious, Arthur,” Uther remarked dryly.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Is there _any_ thing this new stray of yours can do properly?”

 _Magic,_ Merlin thought. _See the future, fuck your son, make him come so hard he sees double..._

Across the room, Guinevere gave Merlin a warning look that let him know she knew what he was thinking. Arthur’s eyes flicked from Merlin’s to his father’s and back in the strained silence.

“I was an entertainer,” Merlin burst out, surprising even himself. “At the inn. When I wasn’t busy cleaning I would entertain the guests.”

Uther raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that so?” Merlin realised then where Arthur picked up the questioning phrase.

All eyes were on Merlin, who swallowed thickly and nodded. “Guinevere.” The maid started at her name. “Four eggs from the kitchen.”

Guinevere gave him a confused look but hesitantly complied. When she was gone, Merlin turned to see Arthur with a similar expression, and Uther eyeing him in another moment of silent appraisal.

Guinevere returned from the kitchen with four large eggs and handed them carefully to Merlin. With his head lowered, Merlin cast a simple spell and when he looked up again it was with a confident smile.

Arthur gasped as the first egg was thrown into the air. He exhaled with relief when Merlin caught it in his opposite hand. Merlin started by juggling two eggs in each hand, then with a slight movement began doing all four in both. He cleverly alternated between tricks and ended by throwing one behind his back and catching it, holding the other three in his left palm. Everyone was sure Merlin would drop the one egg behind him, but Merlin presented it to them with a satisfied grin and Guinevere began clapping excitedly. Arthur soon joined in, and even Uther grudgingly applauded.

“That was wonderful, Merlin!” Guinevere exclaimed. “Bravo, bravo!”

“I had no idea you were so talented, Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice dripping with suggestion, and Uther was the only one who didn’t pick up on it.

Merlin blushed and set the eggs down on the table. “Thank you, sir. It was nothing, really. Just one of my many hidden abilities.” Merlin quirked an equally suggestive eyebrow at Arthur, making sure he was facing away from Uther.

Guinevere cleared her throat and made as if to take her master’s plate. “Are you finished, sir?” she asked Uther.

“Yes, thank you, Guinevere.” Uther waved her off. With a nod, Merlin stepped forward and began to clear away Arthur’s dishes as well. The Pendragons stood and retired to the parlour as they did every evening after supper.

“I can’t believe you, Merlin,” Guinevere hissed at him when they were in the kitchen.

“Can’t believe what?” The kitchen maids all butt in, eager for gossip. “What did Merlin do?”

“Nothing!” Merlin held up his palms defensively.

Guinevere looked like she wanted to argue, but simply said, “Not here. We’ll speak later.”

Later ended up being after the masters went to bed and the rest of the servants were settling down as well. Guinevere tapped on Merlin’s door and came in slowly, in case Merlin was doing anything he shouldn’t have been.

She shut the door behind her softly and sat on the edge of his bed. _Don Quixote_ laid safely under Merlin’s pillow. He’d given up trying to go without reading while Uther visited.

“You’re being too reckless, Merlin.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Guinevere,” Merlin replied cheekily.

“I’m sure you _do_. I know it’s hard to not look at Arthur like you’d die a thousand times for him, but do try. If Arthur can manage it, so can you.” She raised an accusing finger in his face. “And don’t think I didn’t notice his sudden change in attitude on Sunday. No doubt you had something to do with that.”

“What—I—he started it! I was in here minding my own business and he all but _throws_ me against the wall and—”

“I don’t care who started it, Merlin. I understand it’s difficult to maintain control, and Arthur shouldn’t have let his emotions get the better of him, but I’m counting on you to not botch things up. If Uther finds out—”

“He won’t find out!”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“But I—” Merlin stopped himself with a frustrated sigh. He _did_ know that Uther wouldn’t find out. At least not anytime soon. He couldn’t tell Guinevere how he knew though. “Fine. I’ll tell Arthur we need to be more careful, _if_ you tell him you know about us.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Guinevere said.

“Right, because it’ll ‘hurt him.’ Arthur is stronger than you give him credit for, Guinevere. He’ll understand. And I think if he knows you’ve discovered our secret, he might just be a little less reckless,” Merlin hinted.

“I’ll consider it.”

“Good.” Merlin sat back satisfied with his arms cross. “Will that be all?”

“Just one last thing. Since when the hell do you know how to juggle? You can’t walk over a flat surface without tripping.”

“That was one time!” Merlin defended himself. “And there was a rug. It was hardly what you’d call safe.”

“Either way, you’d think I would have known about this.”

Merlin shrugged. “It’s not something that comes up in everyday conversation. ‘Hello, my name is Merlin, I can juggle.’ It just didn’t seem important enough to mention.”

“Not important enough?” Guinevere looked at him skeptically.

“Arthur can put his foot behind his head but you don’t see him shouting that out to everyone.”

“Really? He’s that flexible?”

“Oh, he is _incredibly_ flexible,” Merlin remarked, smiling deviously.

“Huh. I never would have thought.”

“The same way you never would have thought I could juggle. Looks can be deceiving.”

Guinevere rolled her eyes at his quoting of Arthur and finally stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Merlin. Remember what I told you,” she said seriously. Merlin just waved her off and laid back.

Christmas Eve came the next day. The house remained mostly the same in appearance except for the addition of a Christmas tree in every parlour and library and a few plants scattered about. Each tree was different in their own way. The one in the downstairs front parlour had clear glass ornaments dangling from the branches, the light from the candles reflected back in each mirror. The tree in the upstairs library was the smallest, though still impressive. It was draped with tinsel and molded wax figures of angels hung from it.

Merlin, being one of the few male servants, was sent out to get the holly and tied it to the appointed places. He was just finishing securing a cluster to the end of the staircase when he saw Uther appear at the top of the stairs.

The big man bounded down the steps. “Ah, Merlin. Be quick and tell Arthur it’s time to leave. He should have been ready an hour ago.”

“Yes, sir.”

Merlin ran up the steps to Arthur’s chamber. He knocked lightly but loud enough to make sure he was heard. “Arthur?”

“Come in,” Arthur said from behind the door. Merlin entered and saw Arthur standing in front of his mirror buttoning his vest. A wide smile spread across his face when he saw Merlin come in. “Merlin!” He spun and gave Merlin a quick kiss. “What brings you here at this time of the day?”

Merlin allowed himself to indulge and pressed another kiss to Arthur’s mouth, this time swiping his tongue over Arthur’s bottom lip. Arthur’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Your father. He wants you right away. Said something about being late.”

Arthur made a face and groaned. “We’re going to church again. It’s not even Sunday.”

Merlin chuckled and reached down to finish fastening Arthur’s buttons. “It’s Christmas. Isn’t this sort of thing rather important?” He pulled Arthur’s sleeves into place and fixed the blonde strand of hair sticking out from the rest.

Arthur let himself be fiddled with. “Yes. And he does it every year, so you’d think I’d be used to it by now. I suppose I was just hoping he’d suddenly forget this time. Old age and all that.”

“Well, if anything, you’ll look handsome while you mope in the pew.” Merlin stepped back and looked over his work with satisfaction.

“That will only give the young women an excuse to keep me there for hours afterwards. If there’s anything worse than old crones and intimidating fathers, it’s overly affectionate ladies.”

“Have you tried telling them you’re not interested?”

Arthur sighed. “I’m not a commoner, Merlin. I can’t just say outright that I don’t fancy them. It has to be a bit more subtle.”

“How subtle?”

Arthur shook his head, causing a strand of hair to fall out of place again. “I don’t have time to explain. I’ll see you at supper.” He kissed Merlin quickly a final time before hurrying out the door. “I love you.”

Merlin tried not to dwell on Arthur and how bored he must have been sitting in that stifling church. He focused on preparing the elaborate Christmas feast for that evening. A few guests were expected, acquaintances of Uther’s that returned to stay with family for Christmas. Merlin had been told that there would only be three extra places set at the table—for Godwyn, his wife, and his daughter Elena—but the amount of food suggested they expected a horde of people. And Merlin really hated snapping peas.

The servants were amazingly in sync with the Pendragon schedule. The plates were being made just as the masters and their guests came through the door. From the kitchen Merlin heard gregarious laughter and the unmistakable booming voice of Uther saying, “For four hundred pounds a _year_! Can you believe that? Utterly ridiculous.”

A new, feminine voice replied with, “Well, you handled it very well, Mr Pendragon. You could teach my husband a thing or two, that’s for sure.”

Merlin was following Guinevere through the kitchen with a plate in each hand when Arthur suddenly swung open the door that led to the dining room. He stood, taking up the entire frame with his large build, and stared right past Guinevere into Merlin’s startled eyes, saying nothing. Long seconds passed before Arthur exhaled slowly and turned to leave just as quickly as he’d appeared. Guinevere turned to look at Merlin for an explanation, but he was just as puzzled as her. In the dining room, Arthur was taking his seat as Merlin and Guinevere placed the meals in front of their respective guests.

The feast was in full swing when Uther, quite possibly after a few cups of wine, asked, “Will you be treating us to another show tonight, Merlin?”

The youngest female, Godwyn’s daughter Elena, sat up straight in her seat. “Oh, are you a performer? I simply adore street performers.”

“That’s practically where my son got him from,” Uther said. “Boy says he was an entertainer in an inn before Arthur here saved him.” Yes, Uther was definitely a bit tipsy, Merlin decided. Arthur rolled his eyes and went back to brooding over his peas. He hated peas.

“An entertainer!” Godwyn’s wife echoed. “Do give us a show, Merlin, you simply _must_!” She begged with clasped hands and pleading eyes. She looked a bit like the girls that flirted with him from time to time.

“You heard the girls, Merlin,” Uther declared with a dramatic extension of his arm. “They want to see how talented you are.”

Merlin swallowed hard and nodded. “Guinevere?” She nodded back to him and hurried to fetch eggs from the kitchen. Merlin did a hasty bit of magic and performed the same tricks he had before.

There was much clapping, especially from Elena. Arthur didn’t raise his eyes from his plate the entire time, refusing to acknowledge Merlin’s performance. Merlin sensed the waves of anger and frustration rolling off of him and yearned to kiss his brow and make everything better. That would have to wait until Uther and company left, or at least until they went to bed.

Soon after the juggling display dessert was served and Arthur excused himself from the table. “I’m afraid I’ve had my fill,” he claimed and left his seat. “Goodnight, everyone. It’s been a pleasure.” Uther pursed his lips disapprovingly but let his son go.

The rest of the supper was uneventful, and since Merlin helped so much preparing the meal he got out of having to clean up. He was trudging back to his chambers when a strong pair of arms pulled him aside suddenly.

“Wha—Arthur?” Merlin gasped. “What are you doing? I thought you’d gone off to bed.”

“I can’t take it anymore, Merlin,” Arthur whispered quickly. “Tomorrow is Christmas Day and my father leaves Boxing Day. If there was ever a good time to take a risk, it’s now.”

Arthur pulled Merlin closer by the arms but Merlin resisted. “I don’t think we should, Arthur. Guinevere said—”

“What does this have to do with Guinevere?” There was a mad hunger in Arthur’s eyes that both thrilled and frightened Merlin.

“She...she knows about us. She saw us in the library, that first time we...you know,” Merlin confessed, blushing.

“Well, that certainly explains her queer looks of late.”

Merlin gaped. “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“What would you rather I say instead?” Arthur licked his lips, quite obviously longing for a kiss, a touch, anything to satisfy his desire.

“I don’t know. I was expecting more of a...of a horrified shock, I suppose.”

“Guinevere has been my nurse since I was little. She’s like a big sister to me. I know she can be trusted. There were so many times I almost told her myself.”

“So you’re alright with her knowing.”

“Of course I am. Now what is it she said? It better be a good reason for me not kissing you right now.”

Merlin’s heart skipped a beat and he had to reconfirm why it wasn’t a good idea. “We’re too reckless, she said. If Uther catches us—”

“He won’t. He’s all the way downstairs with those insufferable Godwyns. Please Merlin, come to bed with me, just for tonight, that’s all I ask. I’m desperate, Merlin.”

He brought Merlin closer to show just how desperate he was and Merlin was suddenly having trouble breathing.

“We...we really shouldn’t.” But even to Merlin’s ears it sounded like he’d already given up resisting. Arthur closed the remaining distances between their lips and wrapped Merlin in his arms so tight it was suffocating.

But Merlin didn’t care. To feel Arthur’s arms around him, really properly around him, after so long—had it really only been a little over two weeks?—was pure bliss. He let Arthur push him backwards into the nearest room and gasped when he suddenly fell back onto a bed.

“Want you so much, Merlin,” Arthur breathed hot into his ear. He slipped his hands under Merlin’s tunic and placed a thumb on each nipple.

With a sharp inhale and a moan, Merlin arched his back. Arthur knew every spot that drove him mad with lust.

“I envy your forwardness,” Merlin cited back to him.

“Words, words, words. Less talking, and more undressing.” And then, to Merlin’s amazement, Arthur unfastened the button of Merlin’s trousers and began pulling them down with his teeth. It was the sexiest thing Merlin had ever seen.

“Arthur. Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.” His lover’s name spilled from his lips like a prayer and he struggled not to shout it as he felt the first tender kiss to the tip of his cock. “Arthur!”

He couldn’t help it. His hips had a mind of their own and they thrusted upwards until Arthur’s nose was deep in the black curls at the base of his dick. Arthur, wonderful man that he was, took it all in without complaint. He gagged once when it first hit the back of his throat, but was soon bobbing up and down on the hard length as if it was the only thing in the world that made him happy.

Arthur wasn’t as skilled as Merlin, but what he lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm. After the first uncontrolled thrust, he moved his hands to hold down Merlin’s hips so he could work at his own pace, and Arthur’s firm grip acted as an anchor that helped Merlin restrain himself from calling out. God, Arthur’s mouth on him felt so _good_.

Merlin grabbed a fistful of Arthur’s hair as a warning. “I’m going to—Arthur, don’t—”

The first taste of bitter fluid on Arthur’s tongue made him pull back in surprise. He thought he had a bit more time before Merlin burst. Merlin’s powerful orgasm shot in his face, the milky liquid dripping down his flushed cheeks.

Arthur’s breath was hot over Merlin’s softening cock. Arthur himself was still achingly hard, but he was enjoying the sensation of Merlin’s come on his face too much to care.

“Fuck, Arthur,” Merlin said breathlessly. “You’re so beautiful with me all over you.”

A bead of white dropped to the seam of Arthur’s lips and his tongue darted out to lick it up. Merlin bit back a wrecked moan, instead saying, “Perhaps you should clean up?”

Arthur slid off the bed, his erection dragging across the duvet behind his trousers, and went to the corner where his dirty laundry waited to be taken away. He pulled out a white shirt and wiped his face. Just as silently, Merlin got off the bed and wrapped his arms around Arthur from behind.

Arthur’s chest heaved with a heavy sigh. He leaned his head back onto Merlin’s shoulder and their cheeks brushed. Arthur’s skin still smelled of sex.

Without words, Merlin lowered his hand to the bulge in Arthur’s trousers and slid his hand beneath the fabric. Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat and he turned his head to steal a messy kiss.

Messy and passionate. Tongues danced and chased each other as each man battled for dominance. Merlin’s hand on Arthur picked up speed and the other, which had until then been holding Arthur tight to him, drifted down to fondle Arthur’s balls. For that Merlin got a nibble on his bottom lip and a surprised whine high in the back of Arthur’s throat.

Merlin’s nimble hands made short work of Arthur and soon Merlin’s hand was coated in his master’s thick release. Trembling and sighing, Arthur broke the kiss to end all kisses, and laughed breathlessly under Merlin’s attention. He took the shirt once again from the laundry basket and wiped Merlin’s hand for him.

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep,” Arthur whispered against Merlin’s lips. “The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.” He turned in Merlin’s embrace to be held properly, placing his face into the crook of Merlin’s neck.

“What’s that?” Merlin asked, confused by the unfamiliar language.

“A hint. I got you something for Christmas.”

Merlin could hear the wicked smile in Arthur’s voice. He momentarily panicked. “I haven’t got you anything.”

“It’s alright. I didn’t expect you to. Besides, you’ve given me more than enough.” Arthur sounded tired and Merlin guided them to the bed to lay down.

“Will I like it?”

Now resting on Merlin’s chest with his eyes closed, Arthur smiled. “I think so. I hope so.”

“Did you buy it or did you make it?”

Arthur hesitated before saying, “I bought it.”

“Then it’s a book.”

Arthur slapped Merlin’s stomach playfully. “It’s not just any book. And now you’ve gone and ruined the surprise.”

“I told you I’m not one for surprises.” But Merlin was grinning.

“Everyone deserves a good surprise on Christmas. Even you, Merlin.”

“ _This_ was a surprise,” Merlin pointed out.

“That’s true, I suppose. I’m sorry if I frightened you, springing on you like that. It’s just that damn Godwyn and his insufferable daughter Elena that Father wants me to marry. Then he treats you like some sort of court jester.” Arthur sighed, the exhale of breath tickling Merlin’s skin even under his shirt. “What I’m trying to say is, after years of frustration with my partners I was finally happy with you. I guess I developed an addiction of sorts. The past two weeks have been Hell for me.”

Merlin could empathise. “I understand completely, Arthur. But there’s only two more days left. Surely you could have—”

“No.” Arthur’s hand curled tight around the loose fabric of Merlin’s shirt and he pressed his face hard against Merlin’s chest. “No. I want you, Merlin. I need you.”

Merlin was so tempted to say “But you don’t truly know me,” but was able to hold it back. Instead he simply stroked Arthur’s soft hair until Arthur began to snore.

Merlin slipped gently out from under his master and was already into the hallway when a warm hand grabbed his wrist. He turned quickly and saw Arthur’s dazed eyes looking curiously at him.

“Don’t leave,” Arthur pleaded.

Merlin sighed with a small smile and caressed Arthur’s cheek lovingly. There were lines embedded in the skin from where he laid his head down on Merlin’s shirt.

“I think we’ve taken enough risks for tonight,” he said gently. “Now that you’re up, why don’t you go back to your room to avoid further suspicion, yeah?”

Arthur pouted like a child. He glanced up quickly and a devious grin spread across his face. “One more risk?” He leaned forward on his toes, signalling he wanted a kiss to hold him till morning.

“In the corridor?”

“No one’s here. I’m certain Godwyn and them have left by now and Father is in bed.”

“Arthur...”

Arthur raised his forefinger, pointing above them. “Please, Merlin? Look.”

Merlin looked up and saw hanging from the ceiling the festive mistletoe, white berries contrasting beautifully against the winter green. His smile matched Arthur’s as he gave in. “Oh, fine.”

Triumphant, Arthur wrapped his arms low around Merlin’s waist and closed the distance between them. The kiss was soft, less like the battle from before and more like an art. Merlin’s hands held Arthur’s shoulders, his thumbs rubbing the impressive muscle beneath them.

And then an outraged shout ripped them apart. “Arthur!”

In the blink of an eye, their backs were pressed against the opposite walls of the hallway and Uther Pendragon came storming in their direction angrily. Merlin cursed his magic and its inability to show him anything useful when he needed it to.

“Fa-Father. I thought you were asleep,” Arthur stammered in a weak voice. How childlike he became then, a boy caught wandering the halls long after bedtime.

“I was seeing Godwyn to the door and was on my way to my room,” Uther hissed. “But nevermind what _I_ was doing. I demand an explanation for this.” Merlin felt his stomach sink and wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“I was...I was just...” The look of turmoil on Arthur’s face as he struggled to come up with a suitable—and believable—lie pained Merlin, and he longed to take that look away.

“I assaulted him,” Merlin blurt out. Uther turned on his heels to face him, an eyebrow raised menacingly.

“Excuse me?” Both Uther and his son wore matching expressions of confusion.

“I, er, it was my fault. Yes, all my fault.” Merlin nodded vigorously, as if the harder he moved his head up and down the more Uther would believe it. “I’ve fancied Arthur for a while now and I thought—hoped, really—that tonight he’d had too much to drink so I decided to chance taking advantage and—”

“Merlin, stop,” Arthur interrupted him. “I will not have you lie for me.”

“But Arthur—”

“No,” Arthur said firmly. He set in jaw in feigned confidence and addressed his father. “I’m in love with Merlin.”

“You’re _what_?” Uther looked beyond shock. Perhaps he had been expecting this to be an act of lust and nothing more.

“I’m in love with Merlin,” Arthur reiterated. “And I don’t intend to marry any of the whores you’re trying to pair me up with.”

“They’re not whores, they’re respectable young women!”

“I don’t care what they are, only what they aren’t. And they aren’t Merlin.” Arthur took Merlin’s hand in his own and squeezed reassuringly. Merlin felt that he might just make it out of this alive.

Uther fumed silently. Arthur held his gaze steadily, for which Merlin was proud. After too many strained seconds, Uther said, “We will talk more of this tomorrow. Good night, Arthur.” He brushed past them roughly and disappeared around the corner a few doors down.

With matching sighs of relief, they melted into each other’s arms. Merlin was still trembling from fright, but Arthur soothed him and led him back to his own chambers.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything from stopping you to stay the night with me now,” he remarked, trying for humour.

“No, I don’t suppose there is,” Merlin replied with a weak smile. They entered Arthur’s lavish room, changed into night clothes, and slipped beneath the warm duvet. With Arthur curled on his side in front of him, Merlin let his worries fade until the next morning. This Christmas was sure to be memorable.

****

When Merlin woke, he was at first very confused. Why was he in Arthur’s bed? Then the events of the previous night came back to him and he groaned into the pillow with dread.

“Morning, love,” Arthur’s voice whispered in his ear. Merlin opened his eyes and rolled over to see Arthur standing dressed and smiling by the bed.

Merlin yawned. “Morning.”

Arthur’s hands came out from behind his back and a large volume of text was shoved before Merlin. “Happy Christmas.”

Merlin jolted awake and sat up. He took the book from the smiling Arthur and looked over the cover. It was the complete works of William Shakespeare.

“Who’s William Shakespeare?” Merlin asked, turning to a random page and burying his nose in it. It smelled lovely.

“He was an actor that wrote plays. Very famous ones,” Arthur said.

Merlin scanned the pages. “Plays that were poems?” He looked closer at the language. “This is like what you were saying last night!”

“Yes. I was quoting one of his plays. Romeo and Juliet.”

Merlin immediately flipped to the table of contents and searched for the title, much to Arthur’s enjoyment. His smile disappeared when there a knock on the door and his father walked in.

Both men froze at Uther’s intimidating presence. Before diving into the main purpose of his visit, he first addressed the more obvious concern.

“He can read?” He asked.

“Arthur taught me,” Merlin said abruptly. Arthur simply swallowed and nodded.

“Hmmph. Yes, well, I suppose he would. Arthur, may I speak with you alone for a moment?”

“No.”

“Arthur, don’t make this difficult.”

“Who’s making anything difficult? You can either talk to me with Merlin present or not talk to me at all.”

“Arthur, I am still your father and you will give me the respect I deserve,” Uther said, losing his temper.

“One must give respect to get it.”

Merlin looked pleadingly at his lover. “Arthur...”

But Arthur ignored him. “What have you come here to say, Father?”

Uther pursed his lips, still disapproving, but walked further into the room. “I’m sure you know my views on such...sinful activities as you have no doubt been engaging in.” Merlin turned deep red and cast his eyes down. “And you know also that I in no way support your decision. However, you are my only son and I am much too old to sire another. As much as I would like to disown you, it simply is not a viable option. So I ask only that, since you do not intend to marry, you attempt to bring a child into the world some other way, or at least to adopt one. A boy with potential and promise that will one day succeed you as you succeed me.”

Merlin thought the offer very generous, and one look at Arthur said he agreed. But Arthur was still wary.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Uther ground his teeth. “I do not want anyone outside of this room to know about this.”

“Guinevere already knows,” Arthur stated flatly.

Uther swore under his breath. “Besides her. Guinevere is loyal and can be trusted. But do not let any of the other servants or—God forbid—anyone else know. The last thing our family needs is a scandal.”

“I’m very much aware of that, Father. You don’t really believe I want news of this to get out, do you?”

Finally, Uther nodded in what seemed to be approval. “No, of course not. I was simply reminding you. But clearly the sinner does not need to be reminded of his sin.”

Merlin struggled to hold his anger in check. He was usually not a very angry person but something about Uther brought out the worst in him. In that moment he hated Uther more than he hated anything, even Helen.

Arthur’s hand on his shoulder calmed him. “It’s alright Merlin,” he said. To Uther, he stated, “Let us celebrate Christmas then.”

Since the house servants got Christmas off, Merlin spent the day in his room reading from his new book. After _Romeo and Juliet_ he went on to _Hamlet_ , then _Othello_. He was just starting _The Tempest_ when there was a soft knock on his door and Guinevere entered.

Merlin committed the page number to memory and closed the book. “Hello Guinevere.”

“Good evening Merlin. I heard about what happened last night.” She came in and sat in the chair by the bed, the chair Arthur had sat in months ago while Merlin slept two whole days.

“You did?”

Guinevere nodded and there was awkward silence until she said, “I told you so.”

Merlin huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. Even though Guinevere was nearly forty, she could still be as childish and teasing as Kara at times.

“And Uther wants you to join him and Arthur for supper,” she continued, serious again. “They’re in the parlour downstairs for privacy.”

Merlin sighed and stood up. He’d sat in bed all day, the laziest he’d let himself be in a good while, and had to stretch his limbs to get them working again.

“I suppose I better get going then.”

“I suppose. And Merlin?” Merlin stopped as he approached the door. He looked over his shoulder at the worried Guinevere. “Be careful what you say.”

“Of course. I always am.”

Merlin heard the piano three steps after he left his room. Somehow he knew right away that it was Arthur playing, though Arthur had never mentioned he could. Merlin dimly recalled his magic dredging up that fact the first time it had explored Arthur’s mind. Merlin entered the private room and took a seat quietly on the sofa across from Uther. Arthur didn’t hear him come in.

Watching Arthur play was mesmerising. His hands danced like puppets hung from invisible threads over the keys. Those hands, that were always so strong and rough before, seemed now like the delicate touch of a skilled surgeon or a steady painter. With his hands, Arthur could create magic himself.

When the song came to end, Arthur looked up and smiled when he saw Merlin. He stood and rushed to Merlin, sitting down next to him with their whole sides making warm contact. He took Merlin’s thin hands in his own and entwined their fingers together. Both ignored Uther’s rolling eyes across from them.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Merlin asked, voice too high for his liking.

Uther cleared his throat. “Yes. It’s come to my attention that there are some gaps in Arthur’s knowledge about you.”

“Such as?”

“Your surname, to begin with.”

“My...surname.” Merlin echoed dumbly.

“Surely you have one,” Uther nudged.

“Right. Of course.” It was Emrys. But Merlin couldn’t tell that to Arthur, let alone Uther. It would give him away for sure. “James,” he came up with on the spot. “Merlin James.” A glance at Arthur showed he didn’t buy it, but Uther was satisfied at least.

“And where are you from Mr James?” he continued.

“Camelot.”

“Hmm. You seem much too naive for a city boy.”

Merlin shrugged. “There are all sorts of people in a city.”

“Is that why you wished to leave it?”

“Sir?”

“Earlier, when we were discussing first impressions—I’m sure you remember the conversation—you said you loathed cities. Because of the people, I assume?” Uther asked.

Merlin had nearly forgotten all about what he’d said back then. “Y-yes. The people are loud and obnoxious. That’s why I prefer the country. Or a place like this where one can visit the city only when one needs to.”

“I see. And your family, what did they do?”

“How do you mean?”

Arthur clarified. “He means what were their occupations. What did they do for a living?” Arthur was just as curious as his father by this point, mostly to see what lie Merlin would come up with next.

Merlin was quick. “My mother was a seamstress and my father was a blacksmith. I also had a brother that worked where he could, mostly chopping wood. And a married sister who just had a baby before I left to work at the inn. Her husband is a merchant.”

“What were their names? How old were they?” Arthur asked. Merlin looked at him in surprise. Arthur wasn’t supposed to be interrogating him too was he? Or was he honestly as eager to fill the gaps in his knowledge as Uther said he was?

“My mother’s name is Hunith. She’ll have turned sixty last month I think. Maybe sixty-one. My father Balinor, he’ll be sixty-five in June. My brother Wilfred, he’s twenty. My sister Kara, she’s twenty-seven and her husband Mordred is the same age.”

Arthur stared into Merlin’s eyes, searching for what, Merlin wasn’t sure. He could see that Arthur didn’t believe him. They knew each other too well by now for his lies to be completely believable.

Uther on the other hand ate it all up. He nodded in satisfaction at Merlin’s explanations. “Good, good. I’d suspected you of being raised a poor farm boy, but I’m glad to see my son has sense enough not to fall for _that_.”

“Father!” Arthur exclaimed, offended.

Uther ignored the outburst. “Now Merlin, please, eat up. You’re thin as a rail.”

Merlin accepted the plate Uther handed to him eagerly. It was leftovers from the feast the night before and Merlin’s mouth was already salivating at the aroma. Arthur let go of his hand so he could eat, then got up and went to the piano to play another song. This one had a more sombre tone than the last.

Uther stood and nodded a polite goodbye to Merlin, not wanting to interrupt Arthur’s playing with a vocal farewell. When the door closed behind him, Merlin nearly choked when Arthur started _singing._

Arthur’s voice was low and melodic. The lyrics were melancholy. After he finished eating and washing the food down with a long sip of water, he stood and sat beside Arthur on the piano bench. He wrapped a single arm around Arthur’s waist and laid his head on the strong shoulder.

As sad as the song made him, there was a peacefully content quality to it. Merlin felt he could stay in this moment with Arthur singing beautifully forever, and wanted to stretch time as long as it would go.

Merlin’s body became heavy and his eyelids began to close for longer periods each time he blinked. Just as he felt himself drifting off, Arthur’s song ended and a gentle hand came to rest on his thigh.

“If after every tempest come such calms, may the winds blow till they have wakened death,” Arthur said softly, and Merlin smiled at the reference. “Did you know I could play?” Arthur asked.

“No.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Arthur said, quoting himself.

“Indeed,” Merlin agreed.

“I, for instance, had no idea you were such a skilled liar.”

“Mmm.” Merlin was half-asleep and only groaned in response, then the words seemed to really register in his head and he stiffened.

Arthur raised his hand to cradle Merlin’s face and force their eyes to lock on each other. “Just how many secrets do you have, Merlin?”

Merlin’s heart began to pump irregularly between his ribs. His sucked his bottom lip, worrying over his reply.

“Too many,” he said finally.

“Yes.” Arthur nodded. “Too many indeed.”

****

New Years came and went, along with spring, and soon it was high summer. Merlin had been in Arthur’s service nearly a year and not once had he left the grounds. In April Arthur had to leave for a week, claiming a letter urged him to come be with an estranged aunt in her final moments of living, but otherwise he too stayed in often.

In mid-July Arthur asked Merlin again to go into Camelot with him, and this time Merlin agreed. He’d had no visions of trouble occurring. But then he hadn’t seen Uther discovering them in the corridor and that certainly happened.

Arthur wanted to ride on horseback, and even offered to let Merlin ride his black mare while he rode a dappled one. It was too hot to sit in a stuffy coach. But Merlin insisted on the carriage, saying his arse would get sore bouncing up and down in the unfamiliar saddle (though he really just wanted a place to retreat to if he was noticed). That of course led to Arthur grabbing at Merlin’s plump arse to inspect and they ended up leaving half an hour later than they planned.

They didn’t sit beside each other as they wanted to, it being too risky with the curtains of the windows drawn. Instead they took off their shoes, tangled their legs together, and tried tickling each other with their toes. When the wheels of the carriage indicated they’d left the dirt road and entered the cobbled streets of Camelot, they put their shoes back on and contented themselves with rubbing their ankles.

“I have to visit the bank and then call on a few friends to let them know I’m still alive and well. If you want, I could give you a pound or two to buy some books,” Arthur offered.

“Won’t it look strange, a house servant purchasing something to read?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s eyebrows came together. “Very true. I suppose I shall have to go in with you.”

“Don’t go out of your way for me, Arthur. I’m only half-finished _Don Quixote_. I can wait until my birthday or Christmas for another gift.”

Arthur frowned. “Your birthday?” His eyes widened. “Your birthday! That completely slipped my mind. I don’t know when you were born.”

“Third of November, 1838,” Merlin replied truthfully.

“That makes you...four and twenty this year, correct?”

“Yes.”

Just then Cedric opened the coach door and their feet retreated to their own sides. “We’ve arrived, sir,” he announced.

Arthur stepped out of the carriage, saying, “Thank you, Cedric,” and Merlin got out behind him. “Wait for me here,” Arthur ordered and Cedric nodded.

Merlin walked with his head down as he followed Arthur around town. He waited outside each building while Arthur posted letters or went inside the intimidating structure of the bank.

The day was hot and humid. Merlin could see the heat rising from the cobblestones and the sweat dripping from passersby. Even ladies that sheltered their delicate skin from the sun with umbrellas perspired a bit. Their decorated fans seemed to have no effect, only pushing hot air around.

Merlin wished he could take off his scarf but Arthur had left some rather obvious bruises on his neck. “You always wear the damned thing anyway,” his master had said. “I might as well mark my claim on you.”

Finally, Arthur came out of the bank, albeit a bit worried. He put on a weak smile for Merlin and said, “Now I’ve just got to visit Thomas and Smith, then we can leave. It’s awfully hot today.”

As hot as it was, he still walked at a brisk pace, wanting to get home as soon as possible. Merlin trotted behind about six feet back.

Merlin felt strange suddenly, as if he’d been in this same position before. With dread, he realised why: Arthur’s back in front of him, flies buzzing lazily in the sweltering heat, the steady rhythm of a blacksmith hammer in the background...it was his vision from before.

That’s what he hadn’t counted on the first time. When Arthur had asked him to go into town with him before, it was in November. _November._ If he’d slowed down and calmed himself, he would have noticed that in his vision it was so obviously summer. But it was too late now.

Merlin walked faster, hoping that if he changed the slightest thing—if he walked beside Arthur instead of behind him, or if he looked down—he wouldn’t be recognised.

Of course, no such thing happened.

“Hey!” Merlin heard from behind him. “Hey, you! Hey, mister, come back!” Merlin hurried to catch up with Arthur. “Stop, come back!”

And then the inevitable tugging on his sleeve. Arthur was going ahead, ignorant of Merlin’s pause. Sighing, Merlin turned around to face the wide eyes of the young girl.

“Aren’t you the man who saw my future? Aren’t you the fortune teller?” She asked.

Merlin threw a glance over his shoulder at Arthur’s diminishing form. There would still be time to catch up with him. “Why yes, I am,” Merlin replied, getting down on one knee to look her in the eyes on equal level. “How have you been?”

“Alright, I guess,” she said. “I just thought you should know the gypsies are back. They’re where they were the last time.” Merlin’s pulse sped up at the news. “They have a new fortune teller. A lady with hair the colour of hay. But I don’t like her. She looks mean.”

“How long have they been here?” Merlin looked over his shoulder briefly and saw Arthur had finally noticed his absence, was searching among the crowd for him.

“Huh. Three days, I think. Four if you count today, but I don’t count today because it’s only half over.”

Merlin clasped the small girl’s hands tight in his own and leaned into her face. “And you’re positive they’re set up where they were last year?”

The girl nodded wholeheartedly. “Cross my heart. I’m no liar.”

For a moment Merlin was at a loss. Arthur expected him to follow, but Merlin’s heart ached to see his family again. He completely forgot the girl in front of him as he chewed his lip, but then her voice like chiming bells was in his ear again.

“Will you tell me my future, like you did last time?” She asked sweetly. “Please, please, please?”

Merlin internally groaned and checked over his shoulder again. Arthur was still looking for him.

“Oh, alright, give me your hand.”

“Thank you!”

A familiar scene appeared before Merlin’s eyes. There she was again, eleven and painted and waiting for business off to the side of the street. Only this time her clothes were different, indicating it wasn’t the same day as before. It was raining lightly and her makeup was running, her styled brown hair matted down. She’d run for cover beneath an awning and Merlin saw the sign behind her: Rising Sun Inn.

Suddenly a man came out, quite clearly having had too much to drink, and upon laying eyes on her, grabbed her arm roughly. “How much?” He grunted, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“Half pound,” the girl replied meekly.

The drunkard spit off to the side. “Not worth a shilling, let alone half a pound.”

She’d been told that half a pound was the final price, that to go any lower would result in punishment, but she was anxious to get out of the awful weather. “Three shillings,” she offered.

The man pursed his lips, making ready to argue, but gave in and grunted acceptance. The vision faded just as he was leading her away to wherever he planned to do business.

The girl knew when Merlin came back to the present because his eyes changed from gold back to blue. “What’d you see? Will my daddy still have a job at the factory? Will we be rich?”

Merlin could hardly disappoint that hopeful smile, but he was tired of lies. Before, he’d never lied about what he saw to his customers. But then, he’d never had children as young as her come to him.

Merlin focused his magic and rubbed circles into the back of her palm, letting his powers feel around inside her mind. He quickly found what he was looking for.

“Your name is Freya, is that right?”

She jumped up and down excitedly. “Yes, yes! That’s my name, I’m Freya!”

Merlin put on his best smile and clasped both her hands in his own. “Let me tell you something, Freya. Something you may not want to hear, but something very important all the same.”

“Alright...” Her smile faded into honest curiosity.

“Sometimes good things take a while in coming round. Sometimes a lot of bad things happen to nice people.”

“Is something bad gonna happen to me?” Freya looked on the verge of tears.

Merlin tried his best to soothe her. “Yes, Freya. Something bad will happen and you’ll feel very sad. But don’t give up, alright? Just keep your head up and take what life throws at you, because eventually it won’t be able to get any worse. And then things will get better. Lots better. So don’t give up, alright? Can you promise me that?”

She took one of her hands back to wipe her eyes. “Uh huh. I promise.”

“You’ll be very strong at the end of it. You’ll have been through so much pain that little things will seem to mean the world to you.”

“Like honey cakes?” Merlin looked at her confused. “Mum says that if I got honey cakes all the time it wouldn’t taste as good. She says that since I only get them when I’m good it makes them special.”

Merlin nodded encouragingly. “Yes, Freya, just like honey cakes.”

“So...so something really bad will happen, but then something good will follow it? And it’ll be extra special because of the bad thing?”

Merlin rubbed her arm soothingly. “Yes, Freya. Exactly.”

“Well. Thank you. For telling me the truth and not making it seem better than it really is. I hate when grown-ups do that.” She wiped her eyes a final time and placed an innocent kiss on Merlin’s cheek. “Goodbye, mister.” And she walked out of Merlin’s life forever.

Merlin stood silently among the crowded street, seeing but not seeing the world pass him by. The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him startled him out of his daze.

He spun around and his stomach sunk to see Arthur there with a questioning brow. “Arthur! Oh, sorry, I—I—”

“Don’t bother lying to me, Merlin. Just try not to get too distracted by anymore street urchins, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And do keep up.”

Arthur turned on his heel and they were nearly perpendicular to the square where Merlin’s family was when he said, “Actually Arthur, I was hoping I might be able to meet you back at the carriage?”

Arthur didn’t stop walking but threw a quick glance in Merlin’s direction. “Why’s that?”

“I have, er, something I have to do.”

“Why didn’t you mention it before?”

“It’s only just come up. I didn’t expect...to be in these circumstances.”

Arthur saw through his cryptic choice of words. He halted abruptly and Merlin ran into him. Slowly, Arthur turned. “They’ve come back then.”

Merlin swallowed, considering lying, and thought better of it at the look in Arthur’s eyes. He nodded silently.

“I see.” Arthur frowned. “You don’t want me to come with you.”

Merlin was just about to reply but shut his mouth when he spied a familiar face over Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur turned to see the cause of Merlin’s suddenly surprised expression but Merlin brought up a quick hand and turned his face back to him. In a low, hurried voice, Merlin said, “I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name is hateful to myself because it is an enemy of thee.”

Arthur’s brows came together in confusion. At just that moment Wil rushed forward, carrying his bowls for taking to the river, and enveloped Merlin in a one-armed hug. “Merlin!” He shouted. “Merlin, I can’t believe it’s you!”

Merlin laughed nervously, returning the hug awkwardly in front of Arthur’s incredulous stare. “It’s me, believe it or not.”

“Look at you!” Wil exclaimed pulling back to examine his best friend. “What are you _wearing_?”

Merlin looked down at his dull brown shirt and black trousers, his fairly new red scarf the only colourful thing about him. “It’s a uniform of sorts.”

“Uniform? You got a job then? How responsible of you,” Wil laughed. He and the other men of their group always went out in search of work while Merlin stayed behind to tell fortunes. “I’m surprised they haven’t run you out of the city by now.”

“Er, right, about that—”

“Why would they have done that?” Arthur cut in. Wil noticed the obviously wealthy man for the first time and stiffened.

“Who’s this bloke?” Wil asked, shifting his gaze suspiciously between Arthur and Merlin.

“My employer,” Merlin replied. “Arthur Pendragon. He lives a little ways outside of Camelot. I’m his...I’m his house servant.”

Wil’s jaw dropped. “You? You, a house servant?” He looked at Merlin, seeing the little changes clearly now: the odd style of his hair, the way he held himself up straight, his innocent eyes that had turned deceitful. “Nimueh won’t be pleased. Especially about all this.” He gestured to Merlin’s clothing.

“Hello?” Arthur waved a hand in front of Wil. “I did ask a question. Why would people have run Merlin out of the city?”

Wil turned to Merlin in surprise. “He doesn’t know?”

Merlin licked his lips and shook his head. “There hasn’t been a proper time.”

“Doesn’t know what?”

But they ignored Arthur. Wil’s eyes narrowed as he looked between the pair of them again. He studied Arthur’s lost expression and Merlin’s stiff wariness, gauged the distance between them and the obvious tension present. Suddenly Wil saw it all plainly.

“You and him?!” He gasped. “Oh, Merlin. Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.” His lips spread in a smile and Merlin felt a bit sheepish. “How you’ve changed, my friend.”

“Merlin, what is he talking about?” Arthur demanded. “Who is this man and why—”

“Wilfred, pleased to meet you,” Will stuck out his hand.

“I—er—alright, hello. Pleased to meet you as well? Who are—”

“Mate of Merlin’s. We’ve known each other a _long_ time.” Wil pumped Arthur’s hand once more and let go. He turned back to Merlin. “Anyways, you should come back with me, say hello to the others. I realise you probably are a bit hesitant to leave your new, er, employer.” Merlin blushed and Arthur had just enough of an idea of what was going on to blush also. “But definitely come by. Oh look, the girls are coming back!”

Merlin turned and saw the line of females walking back from washing up in the river. There was Kara, Nimueh, Isolde and her baby boy Ysaie, and Beatrice, all a year older. In addition to them was a middle aged blonde haired woman with a silver circlet on her head. The waves of people parted for them, not wanting to get too close.

“Oh my God,” Arthur gasped, finally understanding. Merlin tore his eyes away from his approaching family and looked back at the shocked Arthur. “This is why...Oh my God.”

“Arthur,” Merlin stepped forward and raised a hand to place on his shoulder, but stopped, remembering they were in public. Arthur’s eyes frightened him. “Arthur, please. Just...just go, alright? I’ll meet you back at the coach in a few hours.” He pushed Arthur off, pulling him out of his stunned state. “ _Go._ ”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and nodded. “A few hours. And then we’re going to have a very long talk.”

He disappeared into the mass of people and a hand fell on Merlin’s shoulder. It was Nimueh. “Merlin! How good it is to see you.”

****

After a heartfelt reunion with his former family, Merlin explained his situation and why he couldn’t rejoin them. The girls cooed when he said he’d met someone that he couldn’t bear to leave, and the men cheered loudly. Nimueh was sad to have lost him—Morgause wasn’t nearly as good as he was at the trade—but she was understanding and forgiving. And they promised to visit once a year if possible. Merlin had only to scan the future for hints of when.

He had been brooding in the coach for nearly half an hour waiting for Arthur when suddenly the door opened and Arthur stepped in. As soon as the door closed behind him, Cedric whipped the reins and started towards the estate.

“So,” Arthur began flatly. “You’re a gypsy.”

Merlin deflated. “Yes.”

“And you’re a fortune teller.”

“How did you—”

“I paid them a visit.”

“That’s why you were late.”

“Yes.”

Merlin took a deep breath. “It’s true. I have magic. I can conjure things, I can change their state, I can see the future, I can even sometimes read minds. It’s all true.”

“I see. And everything else you’ve lied about? What you told my father for instance.”

“My surname is Emrys,” Merlin confessed. “I did have a mother named Hunith and a father called Balinor, but my mother died of illness and I never knew my father. I don’t have any siblings, and I didn’t live in Camelot, I lived on a farm in Wales. When my mother died, I was twelve, and that was the first time I went to a city. Nimueh and the rest of them just happened to be there, and I recognised them immediately from one of my visions. After I told them about my magic, they took me in, and I spent ten years with them.”

“You really can see the future then?” Arthur sounded intrigued and Merlin hoped that meant he was less upset.

“Yes.”

“Did you see anything about me?”

Merlin shrugged. “With you it’s odd. I only see bits and pieces.”

Arthur didn’t say anything to that and they were silent the rest of the way. Merlin wasn’t sure what would happen when they got home, but Arthur signalled for Merlin to follow him and he did. When they were alone in Arthur’s room, he sat down on the edge of his bed and gestured for Merlin to take up the chair by the window.

“I’m s—”

“I don’t want your apology, Merlin.” Merlin gulped. “I want to know why you thought you couldn’t tell me.”

“‘ _Why?’_ Isn’t it obvious?” Merlin asked, puzzled.

“Not to me.”

“I’m a _gypsy_. People shudder from hearing the _word_. If you had found out you’d been fucked by one—” Arthur flinched at the blunt declaration. “—or worse, that you’d fallen in love with one, you would have...I don’t know what you would have done. But it’d be worse than just kicking me out.”

Arthur face was unreadable, but he raised an appraising eyebrow. “What have I ever done to give you that impression?”

Merlin shrunk back in the chair. “Nothing I suppose.”

“So how can you say what I ‘would have’ done. If you’re such a talented seer, why don’t you know what I’m going to do now?”

Merlin had heard the words before. _If you’re such a talented seer.._.

“I can’t see everything,” Merlin echoed the previous times he’d said it before.

“Then you haven’t seen—”

Arthur interrupted himself with Merlin’s lips. He had lunged forward so fast that he nearly stumbled and had to catch himself with the arms of the chair in which Merlin was now sitting straight. When Merlin gasped at the sudden act, Arthur’s tongue darted out and slipped between the parted lips, claiming Merlin’s mouth as he had so many times.

“What’s in a name?” Arthur whispered, quoting the same Shakespearean piece that Merlin had earlier that day. “That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.” And Merlin knew then how foolish it was to believe Arthur would stop loving him simply because of a label.

Arthur returned to kissing a relieved Merlin, pulling him up by the arms and leading him towards the bed. Merlin fell onto the soft bedding, the fall forcing air out of his lungs. Arthur placed his legs on either side of Merlin’s hips, grinding down into him as he pulled Merlin’s shirt over his head.

It was the first time Arthur entered him. He spread Merlin out beneath him, Merlin’s face pressed against the pillow, and fucked him into the mattress. Merlin’s cries of pleasure were muffled but his low moans vibrated within the bed. Arthur’s pace was gentle and yet relentless, his thrusts punishing but full of love. His cock deep inside Merlin’s arse drove away all doubts from Merlin’s mind. He placed wet kisses down Merlin’s sweaty back and bit the skin of his shoulder when he came.

“I love you,” Arthur said as they laid, spent, next to each other. “Don’t ever forget that. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Merlin entwined his fingers with Arthur’s and grinned. “I won’t forget. ‘Tis in my memory locked, and you yourself shall keep the key of it.” Arthur grinned back and kissed Merlin softly.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, though it was only four in the afternoon. It had been an eventful day. When Guinevere peeked in looking for Merlin, she smiled at their tender peacefulness and shut the door softly. She told everyone that the master of the house was resting and to not disturb him for any reason.

And Merlin dreamed the future. He saw the two of them, ten years later, eating supper in the dining room. They didn’t sit on opposite ends like Arthur did with his father, but across from each other with their legs tangled beneath the table. Arthur was looking at him with a besotted smile, that even after years together still made Merlin melt.

Presently, Merlin sighed, content in his sleep, and pulled Arthur closer.

 


End file.
